The Touhou God only Plays: Anatomy of Sakura Blossoms
by Essayking566
Summary: It seems the work of an ex-Buddy is never done. Katsuragi Keima hadn’t expected his life to be cut short once again as his old job comes beckoning him back, this time to a Wonderland he thought imaginary, spirited away by a being he was sure couldn’t exist, and led by a lazy dolt who he swore made him miss Elsie’s company.
1. Again, It Gaps him to Work

_When I told my followers in my supposed last story that I was going to stop writing and instead focus on writing full on originals which I would like to publish one day, I didn't exactly know that I was LYING TO MYSELF._

 _Hello, everyone, old and new, welcome to a Touhou and TWGOK crossover. It's been a long while since I wrote FanFiction, but, after completing the draft of my first original story on Wattpad, I decided to take a break doing official stuff to write a new fanfiction. I found the Touhou Project series a year back, and I've been completely enamoured by it since, and so, after familiarising myself with it, I decided to write this._

 _ **TO NOTE:** This story actually has continuity with another crossover I wrote a long time ago, with the TWGOK Universe being interwoven into the world of Senran Kagura, which, although I wrote the first Capture, I stopped writing. You **DO NOT NEED TO READ THAT STORY TO GET THIS ONE**. Only minimal scant references to them exist in this story, and the vast majority of the ramifications in the earlier work do not tangibly affect or linger in this story._

 _In any case, this introductory chapter is long as heck due to all the details needed to flesh out everything. Please allot an ample amount of time in your schedule if you wholeheartedly wish to read this._

 _Touhou Project is owned by ZUN. The World God only Knows is owned by Tamiki Wakaki. Please support these two if you are fans of their work. Thank you for reading this disclaimer, I hope you enjoy, favourite, follow and give an ACTUAL review by the end of it._

O - O - O - O

The Great, GAL-game Titan, Otamegane, rose from his seat. Looming over the Earth, he shifted his awesomeness, the rising steam of his burning muscles searing the air, creaking the wood and cement itself. The world could feel his mere _breath,_ and all knew, at that exact moment of reverence, that he was happy.

He had done it. It was Finished. Utterly demolished. What is more terrifying than a Titan who has attained Enlightenment, than one worshiped by the masses and given ample faith to feast on? Yes, that is the correct answer: nothing.

He had finished Capture Number 13000.

Oh, yes, shower him with praise. Dot his horizoning skin with blown kisses- no touching. Genuflect, worship, and remember him and his name for the ages. Because, and one cannot repeat this enough, he had done it. 13000. **13000**. **_13000_**.

Unlike the last thousandth, it wasn't done at Maijima Private High School, where, under the whim of the more persistent- and, thus, annoying- teachers, he would have had to stop his session short; no, this was done at a shrine. Yes, a shrine, one of Shinto worship, of festive traditions and mythological mantras and spiritual bafflement.

Fitting for a God.

Distressing for visitors, embarrassing for foreigners, and obnoxious for girlfriends.

God saw the world look down upon his achievement, and scoffed and snorted. Yet he did no act of retaliation. What could they, those mere mortals, do to him that would topple his reign? What silly notions would they dredge up from the precipice of their feeble minds to use against him? God needed not worry, anyway- the world never did have a knack in convincing him to calm and rest, and he would not do it now.

"Why the whimpering, my would-be followers? The only thing it's accomplishing is spoiling my moment."

Truly, this God's idiosyncrasy is his pompousness in the face of non-believers.

"Keima…"

How long had it been since he had achieved his last thousandth? It had been a very long while ago. Yes, very long, right before he left for that silly venture in Tokyo, a tiring packaged deal complete with large-chested ninjas, life-threatening conspiracies and newfound truces between New Hell and… well, ninjas. No, not ninjas: Shinobi. Ugh, just by thinking the word, it left a bad vibe in his head. It was something God did not wish to reminisce, and a past he dared not put to written form, so let this scripture shift to the present.

"Keima."

This time, in this new milestone, he had conquered every path in his wake, captured the hearts of dozens of women. The third in the series, with one of the largest cast of characters, all fleshed-out, with motivations, personality, and quirks, with unique interactions he himself found challenging, but, to the surprise of his followers, fair. A true masterpiece in the making, ' **Beyond the Heart of Myths 3: Unchained yet Broken** ' was, is and will always be. If only more knew of its existence. Oh, why was he graced with such a game, today? He found great joy in knowing that this little precious child right here was the one that christened his 13000th capture, and with finesse in coincidence, as well; the last Heroine in the story fit perfectly in that coveted slot.

 _Imai Mutsuki, my 13000th love, the God of Conquest thanks thee for being so patient in waiting for thee._

" **KEIMA**!"

Kosaka Chihiro, in the last second of his majestic brouhaha, snatched God's PFP away, saving it from a kiss to its screen. He couldn't stop the momentum, however, and thus he tripped over the steps and planted himself to nurture in the Shrine grounds.

God wasn't happy about that.

"Oi," God chided, posing in all his histrionic magnificence, "Do you not know what you've just done?"

"All I did," Chihiro paused for a moment to showcase the device on her hand, bobbing it up and down for him to see, "Was not make you look weird, in public, in front of the priest and shrine maidens."

Katsuragi Keima looked at his girlfriend with much curiosity. Public, he understood. Priests? Shrine maidens? Where? He followed her line of sight, and looked behind him with inquisitive glare. Sure enough, his eyes landed upon the tenders of the shrine, all watching with rather peeved gazes, their humble nature a poor adaptation in understanding his pride and work. Still, their relative closeness shook him, and he hurriedly jumped away from the stairs where he had rested, all whilst Chihiro had been away clicking her phone's memory and battery life away. A quick, half-hearted apology followed suit. The old priest answered with only a shaken head in reply, muttering to himself about the state of the new generation. Without much resistance, he let himself be pulled away from the shrine.

Calm, followers. There is no need to fret as our God is being pulled out of the Suwa Grand Shrine. In fact, Katsuragi had ample reason as to why he was in the Nagano Prefecture with his well-established significant other, far from home, from the dealings of his mother and blood-sister Eri, far from the Goddesses and their hosts, and from everything in general that was close to him. Chihiro had wanted the two of them to try going outside by themselves, for once. Being eighteen now gave them some semblance of liberty, and without much coercion his own mother had packed his bags and sent him on his way. It was only by chance that he had bought himself a slew of games for the holidays before his sudden departure with her. Why she chose this place, he didn't really know. He had expected her to align her choices with her own personality, as any game would have dictated, but instead he had to let her pull him to this part of Japan to see the traditional, and frankly boring sights. Not that he despised it- the lakes at least made a good backdrop for the couple, and great atmosphere for optimal PFP action- but after awhile, it became very much a drab for him. Chihiro herself dabbled with the sights, but it became rather clear to her that her boyfriend wasn't sharing the same feelings she did.

"Hey, Keima," Chihiro began, laying down her stirring spoon on top of her teacup and bringing her scarf to her lips, muffling the next batch of words coming out of her mouth, "Are you... bored?"

Keima drew his mouth flat. He was bored. The city of Suwa wasn't impressing him in the slightest. The landmarks they visited the day before had turned into long-forgotten memories to him, no matter how hard he tried to remember them and Chihiro's smiling face as she sent their pictures to her friends, and it was getting colder. Their hotel was average at best, and he and his PFP had to sleep early, in accordance to her own sleep schedule- they slept in separate beds, though she was convinced that, if they had shared, he wouldn't even consider doing anything out-of-character. News flash: he had self-control. Still, he hadn't wanted to depress her with his truths, and so kept his frustrations to himself.

"No, I'm fine."

"Then look up from your game and say it."

He looked up, and repeated his words. She sipped at her tea, in response. He, respectfully, paused his session to take a sip from his.

"How many places are going to steep their tea for too long before they learn?" he complained, chapping his lips from whatever abnormal tastes he could pick up. Chihiro snickered at his miniature rant. His perfectionist streak had really exceeded itself, didn't it?

Placing her cup down, she began to make light conversation with him. It would have been a shame if he didn't at least bring some memories back home, and besides, it had always been serene and pleasant when they were sitting like this, one on each side of the table, total opposites, yet permeating confident perfection, thematic blossoming, and narrative amazement.

"Keima?"

"Hmm?" he groaned in attention, placing his PFP on the table.

"You sure Nikaido isn't asking you for more favors?"

Ah, this conversation, again. After the spiriting-away months ago in regards to damn ninjas- that we will **NOT** speak of- she had become much more wary and paranoid of any future disappearances. He supposed that, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't too much of a surprise. Her kind of character would at least breed questions regarding their lover's status every so often; all he had to do was calm her down. And now, only one answer awaited her.

"Of course. What I did with them that time should warrant me 'out' of anymore of their business for forever, which just means more time playing games~" He reached for his PFP once more, but faltered. The sight of Chihiro looking dejected at him made him question himself, and, in an act of compensation, he added, with a veer of his gaze and a apologetic sigh: "And more time with you, I guess."

"Heh," scoffed Chihiro, "The others don't call you a Tsundere for nothing."

Keima inwardly grimaced. "The tsundere archetype does not describe me, at all," he retorted, "Understand that the best tsundere is one that has reason to be a tsun, in the first place. I don't have any reason to hide myself in that armor, and I don't have a dere side, so I'm not a tsundere."

"I don't know, Keima. What you just described really sounds like you're just a bad one."

"I'M NOT A TSUNDERE!!"

And so went the conversation, casual and self-aware, through the languid evening, consisting of little jabs and prods into different topics, and themselves. Was there no better indicator of their relation than their little, meaningful interactions? From the tea house, to the road back to the hotel, they spoke, sometimes with both eyeing each other, otherwise one pair looking at artificial diodes. Their minds were redolent of past exploits; Keima's about Chihiro's enjoying of Suwa, and Chihiro's about Keima's past dealings with Runaway Spirits. Those were old news, and he never liked discussing of that part of his life, anyway, but her constant questions and curious demeanor had withered away that vault of his. In the months prior, he had disclosed some of what he had to do to her, and she listened with morbid curiosity. Still, even if he had to remember such melancholic, annoying and downright fatigue-inducing moments, he had to concede that it made for strangely surreal stories to share with her.

"At least now I know when you're faking it~"

He couldn't help but give a half-impressed smirk at that remark.

Huh, now that he thought about it, when had he become so genuinely expressive? Then again, he had always been expressive with his 2D crushes. Knowing that he loved her, he supposed that aspect of his was just resurfacing for some 3D fare. This time, though, it was no fleeting puppy love. He really wanted to invest his time with her. She hoped for the same.

The door to their accommodations opened, and the two strolled into the well-lit establishment. A small place it was, modest in aesthetics, and kept traditional for extra tourism appeal. Keima's mother had a room booked for the week just for the two, completely oblivious of the supposed dangers other parents would like to stress when it came to a boy and a girl of legal age being in the same coop. He supposed she was just happy that he was starting to become much more outgoing, even if, in reality, it had only become true because of his being dragged around by a proactive girlfriend. Eri couldn't come, of course, and she fretted and sulked until they departed from that fateful train station. The others were there, too, to see them off: Tenri, Kanon, Yui, Shiori, Ayumi and Tsukiyo, and he couldn't help but cringe in the awkwardness of six of his past Capture targets and their Goddesses threatening, behind Chihiro's back, to punish him if anything stupid were to be done between them.

Well, nothing that could be described as 'stupid' had happened yet, as far as the two of them could tell.

"You have the key, right?" asked Keima as they inched closer to their door, eyeing Chihiro's pockets.

"Ah, yeah. Wait a bit." She dug into her pants, and in due time procured as requested. She unlocked the door, and let herself in. Shoes were all that were left of them outside the door. The two settled in, sitting on their futons as the television whispered its broadcast.

"Hey, Keima?" Chihiro called from the corner of the room, where she had been preparing her portable rice cooker for dinner, "Didn't Eri pack you some of her cooking before you left?"

"Oh, that…" he blenched before refocusing his efforts on his PFP. He didn't want to know what his sister had created. Eri still had an odd handling of ingredients, and that odd handling resulted in the still odd forms of cooking. Whatever was in that bento box of his, he did not ever want to find out.

When no answer came, she, logically, teased him. "What, you really want to eat my cooking, that much?"

"You want to kill me, woman!?"

"Hey, I've been practicing. 'Sides, we have some instant curry and a few vegetables, here and there. I can make something out of this- trust me."

"That's what every heroine says before their cooking socks my character in the stomach!"

"Those are just games, Keima! I, at least, can learn!"

The air hung for the moment of their pause.

Keima, out of the blue, sighed, breaking the silence. Pushing aside his PFP, he muttered, "S-sure, but I'll be supervising."

A snicker filled the air for a brief moment, before the whir of the cooker overshadowed the television's hum.

The night was fun for the couple Katsuragi Keima and Kosaka Chihiro. Fun, though, never seemed to be something associated with the Katsuragi name. Some find the drastic change of their God's nature in the past year too jarring for their liking. Others find his renewed countenance strange- alien, even, and his behavior here may, perhaps, have had a negative impact in this story of his. But is it not the natural progression of things? Do Gods not adapt to their circumstances? Can't they? Why should they continue adhering to their follower's wishes, if Gods themselves are beyond their follower's greatest imagination? Why should Katsuragi Keima, the God of Conquest, then, continue being the sullen, melancholic tragedy that was his past? Surely, he had the capacity to grow and evolve, yes?

Surely God could be human?

O - O - O - O

Keima didn't know how it slipped his consciousness, but it was here. Fatigue. No, not one that mortal beings faced. This one was for the God of Conquest alone: the weariness stemming from a lack of gaming. All the galge games he had in store for today had to be pushed aside for Chihiro's early morning jog. He couldn't guess what was going on in her mind to plan such an excursion- it wasn't even eight, and yet they were strolling through Suwa like the sun had always been merry in the sky- but he had no choice but to go; because his route-oriented brain had surfaced a dangerous outcome for when she was alone. Not only that, but she had insisted that they be as early as possible.

Chihiro, though, had plans he, rightfully, didn't know about. It was a surprise. She didn't choose Suwa for nothing, because, before their departure, she had heard of some marvelous event that would have surely spiced up their day. More specifically, his day. In the best case scenario, he would have treasured everything, with today being the high point, but seeing his attitude, she supposed the opposite, and disappointment wouldn't leave her. Heck, he was feeling the heat already, looking limp and tired, herself walking too fast for him to even take out and play his games.

She supposed that he could be taken pity upon, and a rest-stop could be in order, but there was no time. What event she was leading him to would not have it.

"W-where are you taking me-"

She quickly cut him off, "Come on, Keima! We're almost there!"

"A-almost w-where..."

The sparse buildings grew dense. The cars began to honk and stop on the road. The crowd thickened. Keima noticed it far too late, and before long they were inching their way through a vast sea of bodies. He thought he saw an unfamiliar cosplay in the distance a moment ago, but now, as they got closer to the epicenter, he found himself surrounded by hundreds of strange costumes he could not remember seeing.

What was going on?

"Ah, there it is: the entrance!" Chihiro declared in between her panting, and above the chatter and drumming of the wave.

Keima, disoriented, looked up. His eyes widened.

"W-what is this?"

His lips trembled with every word.

"W-why is this here?!"

God stepped in the wake of the Autumn Hakurei Jinja Reitaisai.

The annual convention, all for one game series, put together every year in Tokyo. And it was here, in Suwa, miles away from its original location of the Tokyo International Exhibition Center.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Much to Chihiro's further disappointment, the boy shook his head, clearly in some deep denial she herself could not understand, and began to ponder to himself. "Why would Reitaisai come here? Maybe they had some policy change and are now starting to move around, or maybe they were kicked out of Big Sight- no, what could they have done to incur that kind of treatment. The crowd betrays that hypothesis: no one would come here if they knew the place was doing some shady business other than the porn sections-"

Chihiro raised a brow at the mention.

"But the most troubling question is…"

With a sudden burst of energy, he swung an accusing finger at-

"Ow! Why'd you hit me?"

"Argh, sorry!"

He forgot how crowded this place was.

In any case, after reaffirming his stance, he pointed an interrogative finger at his significant other, and, in his far-too serious voice, questioned her. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Ara~" she cooed, a hand behind her back, "Well, I thought that, since you weren't enjoying yourself, we could come here. I read all about it: it's a convention for some really big game series, so I thought you'd be interested."

Eh!? What a compassionate, sympathetic heroine! How nice~

But wait, there was a flaw in her assumptions!

"Hey, jut because I live games, doesn't mean I like playing all of them!"

"Eh? Really?"

The crowd begun to move.

With a sigh, Keima explained, "I haven't touched this series for a long time now. It's not my kind of thing- and don't think just because it's full of girls now, I would want to play it!"

The speakers blared its scheduled announcements.

"Whoa, Keima," huffed Chihiro, crossing her arms together, "What's with you and this game, hmm?"

"What's with me and this game? What's with me and this game?!"

The gates opened, and the interior of the building shone outward, a layer of scented oil on top of the watery current.

Keima swung his hand once again, his Godly powers blasting through the crowd.

" **THIS IS TOUHOU PROJECT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!!** "

"Hey, stop swinging your arms around!"

"Ugh, s-sorry!"

"Pfft…" Keima exhaled, pure annoyance in every particle exiting his lungs. Chihiro followed behind, not because he was moving along at his own pace, but because the crowd was pushing along.

"Why is it here, anyway!?"

"Well," Chihiro began to think, "Remember the stuff you did at Tokyo? At Nikaido's request?"

"Ah, yeah?"

"And remember what you had to go through at the very end?"

"Ugh, don't remind me…"

"Yeah, their usual venue was destroyed, so they had to move."

"Eh?"

Their venue was destroyed?

Tokyo International Exhibition Center was collateral to his last capture?

Ehhhhhhhhhh?

"Wait, why didn't I hear of this!?"

"Hey, stop moving so erratically, man!"

"Ah, apologies!" After the short detour, he quickly turned back to Chihiro, continuing his diatribe, "Anyways, we should go someplace else, or else-"

In his rant, he hadn't considered where he was going, and, upon the first sight of something no normal girl would ever like to see, he turned around and dragged her to the other lane. She had wanted to protest, before he remarked how she didn't want to see what was at the end of that road. One peer down, and she quickly understood.

"What's with you and this game?" inquired Chihiro, wanting to learn from her mistake- or perhaps wanting to rebuke his own claims and force him to enjoy himself. Keima didn't know where it was going, his mind so discombobulated that he could not predict what the route went, but he still answered anyway.

"Touhou Project is a dull scrolless action shooting game about some girl prodding an orb around the screen. There is no concrete story, I don't like the art, and it doesn't adhere to any galge standard that I would like, at all! How this series spawned so many sequels, I wouldn't even understa-"

"Ah-" A passerby poked in between the two, "You're talking about the first game?" The two peeled their eyes wide open at the sudden intrusion. Keima, though, recovered much faster, and began to retort whatever was expected to come out of his mouth.

"No matter! Touhou Project has failed in its first impressions! I expect nothing now, after how shallow this so-called 'first game' was!"

"Keima!" scolded his girlfriend, embarrassed by his flaring rage. The stranger, though, chuckled in response, earning him confused looks from the two.

"This year's Reitaisai's pretty special: they've made a room where all the Windows era games can be played, so you can try them out, if you want. There's also a demo of the new game coming out in the main series in the afternoon."

Then, something touched the boy's shoulder. The stranger's friendly hand had laid itself on him, and, still afraid of physical touch, Keima cringed and almost slapped it away, had it not been for his emergency self-control.

"So," the man continued, oblivious, now patting his frozen joint like a jovial friend would, "How about you stick around and check out the games, hmm? They've really changed from the first one, you know?" And with one last slap for assurance, the man left him, speechless.

Keima clicked his tongue. To be spoken to so lightly… To challenge God is to ask for infinite regret! He was going to prove him wrong, to prove to everyone in this damn building that Touhou games were mediocre, unable to evolve any further than the iterations of their most ancient pasts; a dying niche, nothing else!

"Hey, Keima, where're you going?"

Ah, it seemed that, in his moment of seething, he had preemptively begun his movement away from that spot. Being fueled by the primordial energies of the Universe could do that to people, sometimes.

"I'm gonna find this 'room', and I'm gonna play EVERY game in there! Show him the true power of the God of Conquest, I will."

"But what am I supposed to do, then?" she nagged in response.

"Anything," he answered, rather simple in his approach, "Buy some merchandise, look around the doujin circles, cosplay! But be careful!"

She sputtered in her next sentence, rather taken aback by his answer. Those kinds of things were excruciating expensive, so what was he doing suggesting them to her? Before she could answer back, though, he had begun his march forward, tearing swathes through the crowd without a care in the world. Chihiro couldn't bear to follow, since the crowd had already subsumed the gaps he had created. She sighed.

But then a light smile appeared on her face.

At least Keima had that stupid drive of his regained.

She looked to her left, then her right.

Well… now what?

O - O - O - O

Lucky~!

Keima cooed as he slipped into the fabled sanctum of Touhou Project games. He had come before most of the convention attenders even knew of this place's existence, and so the place wasn't as crowded as outside. Quickly, he sat down on one of the open PCs, and began to check where the game directory was. Ah, there, the file labeled Touhou.

At the moment he opened the file, a large selection of directories opened, surprising him. Whoa, now this… when were there so many? Ah, they started at '06' all the way to '17'? Well, then again, that challenging stranger did say that it contained all the 'Windows era games', whatever that meant, so his surprise and confusion quelled with ease.

So, without further ado, he started up the first one in his long list of games.

Ah, there's... Is this the story? Bundled in a text file? W-well, okay, this one was at least somewhat more detailed than the last Touhou game he'd ever played.

Okay, good. He supposed he could give the stranger that point. Still, it was rather bare-bones. And stories are easily filled with just a modicum of effort.

Now, let's see the game.

Pfft, what was with this… Hang on.

Keima blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't getting blurry-visioned.

This artstyle. Huh… it… it was a lot more charming than he remembered. Organic, with effort, even if the output was still rather subpar. Well, t-this was a first.

Bah, that doesn't matter! The gameplay is the most important thing!

Start.

Lunatic. Because God does not choose Easy.

Eh, two characters? Well, something promising.

Eh? Reimu had two 'bullet types'? He chose whatever was the first.

And so, Keima's journey began.

And boy, did it become a slog.

"Ah, a bullet hell game. Didn't think the game would change gameplay like that. Guess I'll have to evaluate it in those standards, now. Pretty normal stuff, but- Whoa… WHOA, WHAT'S WITH THIS GAME! THERE'S SO MANY PROJECTILES! THIS IS INSANE! AAAAAHHH!!!"

It was only after using up one continue that he finally brought out the right mindset for the game.

"Oraoraoraoraoraoraora!! GET OUTTA MY WAY, RUMIA!"

His incessant screaming had, involuntarily, attracted the attention of visiting watchers, and before long, his spot began to grow a crowd.

"Whoa, that's some pretty good plays there, dude~"

"DON'T DISTRACT ME!"

"He's not even trying to bomb, at all."

"SHUT UP!"

"Is that a good score? Does anyone know?"

"I'M FIGHTING A DAMN VAMPIRE RIGHT NOW, SO WOULD YOU PLEASE KEEP QUIET!!"

Finally, after an agonizing session, he had done it. He had finished the game, one continue down the drain, bombs never used- that would be cheating- and a full health bar. God slumped down on his seat as the audience applauded his efforts.

The applauding, though, kept itself unsung in Keima's mind. He had fun. HOW? The combination of tense gameplay, of total, utter concentration, the mechanics of grazing, the tracking, the micrododging, the predicting, the point collection, the characters, the minimal, yet entertaining story-!

"Touhou… is fun…" the husk, dejected and betrayed by the opinions of a younger self, conceded. That inward realization had illuminated some distant past in his mind. A far-off memory, of his child years, frustrated by the first game of the series. Oh, he was God, no doubt, but at one point, this young God had made a terrible mistake. If he could go back in time to clout his younger self in the head, he would honestly consider saying 'yes' to that proposal.

A hand shook him from behind, and he snapped out of his meditation.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, much to the amusement of the crowd. The cosplayer behind him, though miffed by his outburst, nonetheless suggested to him to try the 'Extra Stage'.

Extra Stage?

The right hand went into gatling.

The left hand was unmoving on the shoot button.

" **ORAORAORAORAORAORA**!!!"

Micrododging at its finest.

People went wild. The crowd grew ever larger. Keima sweated waterfalls through his pores.

He had, thusly, beaten the first Extra Stage boss he had ever encountered in one try.

Muscles pulsated, mouth hung open.

"Alright…" he muttered to himself under the roar of the crowd, "Time for the next game…"

All in all, throughout the span of a handful of hours, he made one of the greatest shows of Touhou mastery in the world.

"WHY IS A GARDENER HARDER THAN A MAID!? ISN'T THE HIERARCHY OF HEROINES BROKEN WITH THIS!?"

"AHAHAHAH, YOU COULDN'T ESCAPE MY CAPTURING SKILLS TOO, YAKUMO YUKARI!!"

"What's with that sprite? Tewi actually looks spooky…"

"Ugh, Shinigami! A lazy one, at that!"

"I've had it with Goddesses! COME AT ME!"

"So you're telling me Kanako started the entire incident? What an annoying char- HOW CAN YOU LEARN HER BUST SIZE FROM AN ART STYLE LIKE THIS!? Well, then again, I guess the crudeness does make it really easy for the imagination to make fanwork. Yes, that's the advantage of this level of polish. Like my dear Yokkyun~"

"Oh, that's her bio? Koishi sounds tragic. She'd make an interesting character in a galge."

"Hmm, real-life religion's in this game, as well. I guess that adds some depth to the world, huh?"

"Is a pink cloud actually… Huh, pretty creative."

"Yuyuko, driven so low till she's become a first-stage boss. What a sad end for a heroine…"

"KOGASAAAAA!"

"Is this another… MORIYA SHRINE CONSPIRACY!! Hahahahaha! Ah, our first boss's a mermaid."

"Are you sure Mima doesn't appear anywhere, as a secret boss or something? Seriously? Pfft, and here I was thinking the setup you were talking about would've made her really compelling to capture."

He lost all his continues at Junko.

We scribes have decided not to include his excessive eruption in the scripture.

By the time he'd finished the sixteenth game of the series, he was completely exhausted. Those handful of fleeting hours were the most strenuous he had ever been. The God of Conquest had captured all Lunatic could offer (save for Touhou 15), and he rose, rather shakily, from his seat a new man, born of sheer difficulty, made man by the danmaku, transcended Godhood into that of Celestial beings. The crowd around him, themselves exhausted from being in perpetual awe at his feat, paid their last bits of energy for a round of hooting and congratulatory celebrations. Someone even gave him an Eiki hugpillow as an offering. Why someone thought that was a good gift... in any case, he politely refused it.

O - O - O - O

Chihiro, on the other hand, had enough time to check around the convention at her own leisure. There was a stand selling manju and other simple confections, so she bought some for breakfast, and saved a few for Keima, if he wanted them. Sure, he hated sweet things, but the food here was rather bland- they say it was for the more genuine 'Hakurei experience'. Whatever that was, she didn't know, and she quickly shelved the thought away to explore some more.

Her exploration net her some strange, some memorable, and some pleasant results. Wandering into the more forbidden part of Reitaisai wasn't something she had planned to do, but she found herself there, anyway, and without much hesitation she fled the scene. A part of her wondered if Keima would have enjoyed seeing the shamelessness of those booths. That part of her tamed itself when she heard the music in the air. Oh, the music, the drums and the guitars and the pianos and the triangle.

She bought a CD, shortly afterwards.

At this point, she began to think about the elaborateness of some of the cosplayers around her. In a stroke of genius, she decided to take photos of them, but, due to her newness to all this fanfare, she was stuck trying to sneak in a photo from the distance. That all stopped when someone noticed her doing so. She expected some punishment, but the cosplayer acted lenient on her, and helped her take a better photo: a selfie.

The fateful encounter, though led her down an awkward string of meetings and conversations. More cosplayers, then noteworthy members of doujin circles, and then the dressing room. One of the circles had the resources and trust to hand her an entire costume for her to try out. From wig to shoe.

 _What will Keima think if I wear this?_

Ooh, stop it, brain.

Frantically, she slipped the outfit on. After uncovering a few layers, she found breast pads, and grew anxious. That would have been embarrassing to wear, had it not been for her new-found acquaintances tossing her the choice of leaving them be. She, not surprisingly, left them alone.

When Chihiro had finished her dressing, her acquaintances couldn't bottle their excitement; they had to drag her around the place to do photoshoots. She'd never done something so embarrassing before, and hesitated at the start. Their beckoning, though, had brought her walls down, and spirited-away she went, all around.

She, unfortunately , had to protest against entering the metaphorical 'red-light districts' of Reitaisai.

Those handful of hours whittled away, and by the end, she couldn't help herself. She was enjoying the moment. And she was doing it without even knowing a single thing about the series she was representing.

The cheering in the distance took her attention away from her last camera.

"Uh, what's that all about?" she asked her friend, pointing at the other hall nearby, where the commotion stemmed from.

"Ah, that's where they put the PCs for all the Touhou games. I heard it was pretty troublesome for them to even get enough computers to at least make a place like that viable. Looks pretty crowded, though…"

Katsuragi Keima!

She rushed forward, much to everyone's surprise. Her new friend quickly tailed her, but not for long, though, because the man of the afternoon had come out of his loving crowd.

Keima blinked the moment he saw her.

"Ah, h-hi."

"Sakuya?"

Huh? Who?

Ah, she was still wearing her costume. Oh, how embarrassing.

"I-it's me…"

"Oh, Chihiro?"

A short pause happened between the two, only broken when he leaned down to look at the hem of her maid uniform.

"Ooh, nice details."

Eh? N-nice details?

"They don't joke around in these kinds of costumes, huh? You look pretty good in it."

Her? Looking p-pretty good?

"Still, isn't it expensive?"

"Well, in truth…"

"Eh, who're you?"

This was when her new doujin circle friend chimed in. Chihiro, red with flaring veins, fidgeted in her costume as they spoke and exchanged information. Yes, they were exorbitantly priced, and, besides: when would she ever wear these other than here, as a costume lent, and for entertainment's sake.

Before they could interact any further, an announcement blared in the speakers. The new game was being shown. Without any hesitation, and much to her surprise, he and her friend clasped hands together, a physical pact of some sorts to see and try the game first thing next minute. Moments later, Chihiro flapped in the wind, pulled by Keima and co. to the newly opened venue.

Ah, how did she forget? This was a convention for a game. There was basically no chance that someone of Keima's finesse and obsession wouldn't attend.

Ouch, the fake knifes were digging into her legs!

O - O - O - O

"Ahahahahah!!"

Keima laughed into the air, before his exuberance suddenly deflated, and he was rendered pallid and small in the crowd.

"All the computers are taken…"

Chihiro, though she was foreign to the games, sighed in sympathetic dissatisfaction.

"Oh, here," she said, before handing him a little bag.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Some pastry and stuff. They aren't that sweet, so I thought you'd like some. You hadn't even eaten breakfast yet."

"Yeah, because you pulled me out of bed so early," chided Keima with a childish pout. That expression left rather quickly, though, and before she could answer, he continued with, "But I guess if you hadn't, I wouldn't have found a good spot, so… thanks."

Chihiro's eyes widened at the surprise that was her boyfriend's sudden shift. She giggled, and, with a hard pat on his poor back, declared out loud, "No prob, Otamegane!"

"Why does that nickname still persist?"

"Because you're Otamegane, of course~!"

Keima grumbled, and reached to take the first bite off his manju. It wasn't sweet. Good. Without another word, the two waited, far in the backdrop of the eyeing crowd, small things in the grand scheme of the world. Chihiro didn't mind. Keima was relieved of that fact.

"Is that-"

A voice attracted both their attentions. Keima, familiar with the expectations these games had- fleeting conversations with his fans told him so- expected it to be some returning character. Still, though, what was with this long pause? Was the guy such a big fan of said character that he literally froze in place? What character would that even be?

"It's… IT'S MIMA!"

Keima froze, and then, in an instance, he was in a dash, ripping through the sea of people with such haste that it caught the lazing Chihiro off-guard.

"Wha- Keima!?"

Even Chihiro's voice could not catch up to him. He was so fast, some didn't even see him pass by, and, not even a dozen seconds in, he had snaked his way to the front, to join the man who had so brazenly declared it in a hall full of people starved of a character they wished even in their dreams could return. His eyes laid on the screen. There was no mistaking it. That hat. The staff. Her ethereal body.

He couldn't help it; he jolted forward, pushing the player's head down, and examined her in more detail. When the urge was too strong to overcome, he began to order the scrolling of the dialogue.

"Okay, so this refers to the PC-98 era? Ooh, so she's a God now? Like she promised? Ah, okay, that's really interesting."

Then the dialogue ended, the demo with it as well.

Keima stared at the credits screen.

What? NO!?

His arm lashed out to grip the edges of the computer screen.

YOU CAN'T END NOW!!

No, that wasn't important. Calm down. What we've uncovered here is something that would transform the landscape of the Touhou universe. What's important now, as Keima turned back to look at those silent and waiting, was…

"MIMA IS **BAAAAAAAAACK**! PC- **98 CANON DISCUSSION**!!"

The room, having been given their guarantee, burst into life. Chihiro yelped at the sudden boom. The halls rumbled and quaked from the cheers. Everyone outside cocked their heads at the ruckus.

"PRAISE ZUN," screamed Keima with all his energy into the air, "OUR LORD AND SAVIOR!!"

How did he come to love a game so? He had no explanation, but he wanted more of its sequels. He wanted to experience it all, now.

Chihiro, recovered, gave a joking snicker at Keima's performance.

The chants of 'Mima, Mima' filled the air.

O - O - O - O

Katsuragi watched as the waters of the lake lap the beach. His PFP hung limply between his fingers. Chihiro, beside him, occupied herself with tracking the clouds in the sky. The sun had begun to set. The city streetlamps began to rouse from their sleep.

"Hey, Keima?" Chihiro muttered, disturbing the silence, "What was all the chanting about, just now?"

With eyes unwavering from the horizon, he began to explain, "Mima hasn't appeared in another game for a decade now. People have wanted her back for so long, so I thought it was best that we celebrated. She has a lot of potential, and I guess the creator's using it now. Smart move to try and get more interest in the game, once again."

"Oh… That's cool."

"Do you know why Reitaisai relocated here?"

Chihiro turned to Keima, baffled by the sudden question. "No. Why's that, Keima?"

"It's because one of the in-game locations is based on the Suwa Shrine we visited."

"Really?"

"Well, you know I'm not interested in that game stuff, so I dunno why you're sharing it with me."

Keima sighed and brought up his PFP to his face.

"But I guess your weirdness is what got me interested in you in the first place."

He flashed light red at the remark.

"Hey," Chihiro called for his attention.

"Yeah?"

She paused for a moment to think of a question to follow up from her previous one.

"If Gods do exist-"

"You're dating one right now."

She kneed him in retaliation.

"No, stupid- do you think they're fine with us being together?"

"T-that's a pretty specific question…"

Chihiro chuckled. Perhaps it was. Dragging her feet closer to her thighs, she rested her chin on her knees, and looked into the horizon with him. As the seconds ticked by, she muttered, softly to him, "Remember… my first confession?"

"The one where Ayumi was in your room?"

 _Ayumi, in her own room back at home, sneezed._

"Heh, yeah. That was... pretty awkward, huh?"

"Well, in any case, that would have been a relatively dangerous confession, anyway."

Chihiro stared at him. He stared at his PFP.

"A sick person, especially one who's woozy, would usually follow two routes: either they slept and missed it, or they heard it, but don't know what to do, because they're too weak to try anything, or because they find the situation far too advantageous for he confessor. This kind of confession either fails in everything, and creates tension in confessing again, or makes the relationship extremely awkward. A 'sick visit' event never works as an end to a heroine's route, nor does it even work properly as a penultimate event-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" cried Chihiro, before she kicked him on the lower spine. "What I did was dumb. I should've waited, yadda-yadda."

Keima sighed, once again. His aching back crippled him. "It was a good attempt, at least."

Chihiro didn't answer back.

Quiet moments, where both parties are allowed to absorb their own share of their presences, are what made couples truly strong. Well, that was what Keima supposed, after being with Chihiro for so long. Most of his games rarely had postgame content, so the task had been, at first, daunting to him. Now, though, with the lake and the city as their backdrop, they watched in silence at the expansive horizon. The city skyline barred them from seeing any further, but, if they both stood on each other's shoulders, one could make the metaphorical case that they could see further into whatever said horizon represented. That was the least of their concerns, honestly. They just wanted the ambience of Lake Suwa to engulf them.

A breeze blew by, disturbing the water and their hair. Chihiro flinched at the sudden flash of cold. Keima shivered, but was nonetheless unfazed. Lake Suwa stirred.

"Hmm," Keima stirred momentarily in his place, before he began to rise. "We should head back."

"O-oh, yeah. It's getting pretty late." Chihiro proceeded to store the picnic blanket away, as Keima continued his gaming session. A passing glance made her remind him of his own bag to grab. He did as he was told, and peered inside for assurance.

 _Touhou: Anatomy of Rose Bouquets_. One of the few dating sim fangames being sold in this year's Reitaisai. He supposed that he could test it out tomorrow, if time allowed it. But Chihiro would have been disturbed by all the noise and lights, especially with the two of them being in such close proximity.

"You know, you can play games at night, right?"

Keima's gaze turned mechanically towards her.

"Eh?"

"As long as you're quiet about it, it's fine."

Ah…

"Thank you, Master. Thank you," he praised with a bow. She, rightfully flustered by the display, begged him to stop.

The journey back to the hotel found itself shortened by their pace; Keima could not linger in the streets with the prizes so close to his PFP, yet so far. Chihiro followed, not far behind, humming to herself the music she had heard at the convention. Keima hadn't asked, but he was without a doubt quietly curious of her new possessions that she had acquired from the convention. Knowing her past dealings with music, it wasn't far-fetched for him to guess that those were CDs.

Yes, yes, the game series' BGM was commendable, at least. Very nice to listen to. A high 80 to low 90, in his opinion. Artwork, though, looks to have degraded throughout the years, so that was a 50. Gameplay? Very frenetic, yet, once you master it, you feel like you're at the top of the world. Still, Touhou 15 exists, and he didn't know what to think. He opted to judge it at the same level as the music. Yes, posting the verdict into his website would be the best choice… But then again, his website only documented galge games, so… He looked to his little bag of treats, and pondered over the choice. Yes, Anatomy of Rose Bouquet would serve a better fit in his website compared to the bullet hell games, but this was a fangame, not an official release. But wait, had he ever poster any fangames before? Now that he had thrown that question out, he supposed he did remember a few. A hundred and forty-three of them, to be precise, many of which he played due to the request of his dear, beloved followers.

Chihiro unlocked their room, and he once again set foot inside.

"Whoo," she hooted, stretching her exhaustion away, "Wasn't today fun?"

Keima quietly agreed. She gave a hearty smile in return.

"I'll prepare dinner, okay?"

"Sure." He brought out the game as he spoke. Ah, dear Reimu and Marisa, the focus of the cover. Behind, a selection of the most popular characters, of course; popular characters sell games, that much he knew. Still, it wouldn't have hurt to put in some of the more obscure girls, yeah?

Bah, now was not the time to dwell in trivial pet-peeves. Now was the time to open this thing and revel in the next capture!

His PFP booted, and he, chuckling almst maniacally to himself, began his Touhou journey once again.

"How about you eat first, Otamega?" suggested Chihiro, before she knocked his noggin with the rice paddle.

O - O - O - O

 _Parsee scenario complete_ ~!

In just an hour, he had completed his next route. Keima, with soft fingers- a silencer only designed as convenience for the sleeping girl a bed away- pressed onward with the skipping of the credits. Once the main menu screen came up, he instinctively navigated through it, and started the next route. He had hoped to check on Chihiro, to see whether or not she was sleeping snugly without is interference, but with the VR headset being rather clunky and noisy upon taking-off, he had to put down the thought and continue with the game.

Keima found himself pleasantly surprised by the existence of that jealous youkai in the game. Frankly, she was rather low on his radar of potential capture targets that could've been included in the game, but that didn't stop him from engaging with her story. Still, her presence did not alleviate any of the problems he had borne witness to, as his overall experience wasn't all that special. There were some things he found rather lackluster with his experience throughout the game: the remixed BGM didn't sit too well with him, especially with Reimu's route; they characterized some of the 2hus rather oddly, with some blatant false personalities and the likes (some too far from even fanon depictions to be comfortable); and lastly, some of the routes were boring and, to his shock, extraordinarily plain. These were characters with immense powers, crazy quirks and immense detail in their creation: how could they not honor that level of detail with the story, dialogue and events?

His hands tapped away the night. The God of Conquest, having not partaken in any all-nighters since the first day in the prefecture, felt himself reinvigorated in the dark. If one looked at him now, he would have been to them like what Buddha looked to those who laid eyes on him in his enlightening meditation: cross-legged, sitting straight, both hands together in controller matrimony. Someone was watching him, but how could he know? His full attention was on Yukari's route, right now.

If he had broken his trance to check on his significant other, he would have found her awake, and watching, with awe, at his playing. He'd been off on his gaming session since the hotel's old clock's hand struck seven. Midnight was already approaching, and he was still going. What dedication. Chihiro couldn't help but stare with her head rested on the palm of her hand. She had to sleep, though, and she had caught herself dozing off a few times.

 _"Oh, you want to be my Shikigami? Pfft, what an odd request, coming from a human. Why not be Yuyuko's? She was the one who dragged you from the River."_

 _Ah, so this route's going to have me as the manservant. A reasonable choice, barring the Gap Youkai's character. Well, that just means most of my choices have to be a bit more extreme, just to get her attention._

 _"First, a question. Why come to me? There must be hundreds of other Gap Youkai such as I, out there."_

 _Eh? Isn't she the only one? Ah, it must just be her mocking me. Well, I won't back down!_

 _1\. You're the only one I want to serve, Yakumo-sama!_

 _2\. *Tell her the truth*_

 _3\. Chen's adorable; I wanna work with her._

 _4\. I... I want to get closer to Miss Ran_.

 _Pretty interesting choices. First one is obviously the go-to in making an impression- I won't be surprised if they kept her as someone that's not surprised by that kind of approach. Second choice is only gonna get me pity points, so it should be a pretty weak approach. The third and fourth sound like additional routes- I must experiment, later._

He chose the first option.

 _"Oh really? Even after the Phantasm Stage, you still like me that much?"_

A stirring made Chihiro raise a brow at Keima. Something in the air had changed. Was it his sudden loss of breath, or his frozen fingers? She kept watching, now with newfound earnest.

 _"Why not tell me the truth? Are you that deceitful a man? And don't tell me you didn't consider wooing my own Shikigami or, God forbid, Chen in this playthrough?_

 _"Really, why the choice, God of Conquest_?"

A familiar tingle ran down Keima's spine.

That... it couldn't have been scripted.

He'd never heard dialogue like this, before, much less one that actually searched the PFP's files for its owner's name.

Could a game really do that?

 _No, no, calm down._

 _This is nothing new._

 _They've been characters like her, before, and I've heard one new galge game has that kind of name-searching programming integrated into the game. Maybe the creators just thought having that same quirk in Yukari helps in mirroring what's expected of her character. Impressive, but if that's the case, then I'm a bit lost._

He grumbled to himself, and gave a little huff at the end of his silent grunting session.

 _The writers of these kinds of characters love playing around with expectations and the fourth wall. Sure, for plebeians, it's all fun and entertaining, but for me, who's trying to finish the damn game and give it a rating, it will only slow me down. The recognizable structure of routes is completely dumped for the unexpected, confusing and unexplained. It's like driving in a straight road that immediately segways into a roller coaster roadway. If you're too slow, you'll fall from the crazy turns she throws, and if you're too fast, you may even get out of bounds with the capture and lose track of what she's even talking about. The only redeeming factor is the fact that the writers do get predictable after a while. These fourth-wall breaking characters become much easier to manage and make progress the more you interact with them._

And so, God marched on…

And fell face first into the mud.

 _T-these choices…!_

 _This uncomfortable, lose-lose event!?_

 _The flags I have to put up!_

Sweat began to manifest in waves. His mind began to lose comprehension. Hands grew weak. Something felt _totally wrong._

What was with this character? How was the dialogue so good at toying with him? It sounded so unorthodox for an in-game character, for an artificial construct molded into shape by the existence of other characters. It felt too… real. Too human. Too… alive.

 _NO!_

His grip reaffirmed their strength on the controller.

 _I must continue! It's been so long; the ending must at least be near!_

A few taps of the button, and he found himself in another strange situation.

 _"*Sniffle* *Sniffle*"_

 _… This is a trick, isn't it?_

" _You think t-this… this is a trick, d-don't you?"_

 _Ah, that predictive, almost like mind-reading stuff. Already gotten used to it._

 _"I… I've actually been feeling really lonely, ever since I left Ran and Chen back at home…"_

" _Oi, we're still here, Miss Yukari…"_

 _'Oi' is right, Ran; is this a Manzai skit, or something?_

 _"*Sigh* Why are you still trying to entertain in him the idea that you can even be wooed, Miss Yukari? He's already been playing for 5 hours, he should have the right mind to rest, already."_

 _"Oh, Ran, don't you understand? Testing the boy of his stamina, perseverance and knowledge of love is the best course of action for me to decide whether or not he would suffice. So, God of Conquest, do you think you are so?"_

 _Wait a minute…_

 _This sounds like some half-assed way for the game to finish her route. 'Suffice'? In love? Of course, I suffice. I have lived for thousands of years, and created loving bonds with thirteen thousand women, now. I am not the God of Conquest for nothing, Yukari. So: am I nearly there? Will I be liberated of this annoying, self-serving script?_

 _Man, she is exhausting to work with…_

 _1\. D-did I do well, Miss Yukari._

 _2\. I-I wasn't trying to…_

 _3\. Of course I'd suffice, Miss Yukari! I will love you till the end of days! Please be my mate, so I can be at your every whim; kiss your feet; be your slave; worship you; do everything at your command-_

Keima inwardly puked at the last option. How much degradation was the writer of that choice trying to do to the player's dignity? To his dignity.

He chose the first option.

Instead of Yukari continuing with her next text box, her Shikigami, Ran, answered.

 _"Mister God of Conquest, I don't think she will think favorably of your performance unless you chose the third option."_

Keima poker-faced.

Second option, then.

" _Um, that's the second option. Can you count? Are you roleplaying as Cirno, or… *Sigh* I'll stop."_

He, without much of a choice- BECAUSE HE DIDN'T HAVE ONE- chose the third option to get over it.

 _"Fufufu~ A man who doesn't want their status tarnished, and yet, in the stride towards their goal, will put down that facade to do so. A very well-made choice those Devils of Hell made in sending this lost soul to me."_

 _Eh? Is this some continuity error, or something?_

" _Okay, I accept your offer."_

Keima's complaint stepped aside, as his eyes widened at the sudden approval. Had he done it? Oh, yes, the next scene was at a marriage between his character and Yukari! He pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. A cocky, sadistic grin stretched across his face.

He had thought it would never end, that all of her route was some sick, endless-looping joke- after what he had to go through, he wouldn't have expected it any other way. But he was done: he had captured her heart… or, at the very least, finished her route, and boy was he not replaying that.

 _Yukari scenario complete~!_

 _Gensokyo scenario EX unlocked~!_

Keine stopped. He drew his hands back, and, limp in body, marvelled at the text in front of him. And then he broke his vow of silence.

"Eh? There's an Extra set of routes. Wow, this is a pretty big galge game. Other than that, I guess Chen and Ran's routes don't exist. Maybe the Extra routes have them?"

Suddenly, out of the dark of the night, he heard a voice call to him.

"K-Keima!"

Chihiro. Her voice was stammering with an unnatural level of panic. Ah, did he wake her up with the noise? Well, if he did, then apologizing was the worst of it: the other side of the coin was that it gave him ample reason to just stop. Yukari's route was exhausting enough, with all the predicting and false flags and that one reset early in the game. How infuriating.

Pushing up his headset, he turned to her, and saw her, and the room, in a perpetual tilt.

Wait, tilt?

His right hand pushed upon the cushion. But it touched no cushion. No part of him laid on anything.

"Eh?"

He felt the air blow through him.

And then the bed swallowed him.

"KEIMA!?" Chihiro's scream echoed through the vast orifice, and, as he fell, her head poked from the hole's outside, her countenance shifting around in panic as the maw closed, and he was left alone to freefall.

"W- **WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then the voices rolled in, from the dark, a hundred in number, all owned by one single person. They echoed their feminine drawl as he fell:

" **How silly of you, God of Conquest. Did you really think all that was written by a human being? Did you think the program looked into your own console for your name? More importantly, did you think you and those girls were the only Gods to be wary of? How braggadocios you are…** "

He stopped screaming the moment the words hit his ears. His running mind blasted into overdrive. Was it Vintage, that group of Devils hoping to raise Old Hell once again, that was entrapping him in this bottomless pit? Some other group, altogether? B-but wasn't all that in the past?! If Vintage even knew he still existed, they wouldn't just strike him an entire year later! W-well, then again, their forces were considerably weakened after his crazy shenanigans, so that could make sense. If that were the case, then where was he falling to? Some obscure part of Hell? Oh no, if that were true, then he would have nowhere to go, no one to save him, no way out.

He could only respond to that prospect in one way, and that was:

 _Shit, shit, SHIT!!!_

He twisted and turned in the air. Where was up? Where was down. He'd lost that sense of direction far too quickly for his own good, and the disorientation was getting to him, all because of this darkness! And then, as if the pitch blackness couldn't get any worse, the abyss stared back.

His stomach churned.

Eyes. An infinite in all, as far as his own could see, opening and blinking at their individual rhythm as they stared at his falling hopelessness. The eldritch abomination that dwelled in this realm frightened him with its elusive, yet imaginary images, and he-

 _Wait._

Why was this so familiar to him?

 _Oh no._

His skin flashed the color of newly fallen, freezing snow. His breathing hitched from his lung's total skip of beat.

Her entrance sealed the deal.

Mop cap. Blonde hair. That dress. The foxy leer of those eyes. Floating in midair.

Katsuragi's mind crumbled.

"Y-Yu… Yuka-"

Then he hit water.

Keima's body shuddered from the surprisingly light impact, but the sense of fluid all around his body, and the shadow of the harbinger of misfortune looming over him, brought him into reflexive flight. He paddled his way upward from brackish waters and gasped for air. Land, he told himself, he needed to get to land! His head swerved round him, and, much to his surprise there was a patch of dirt poking out from the water-

Then his PFP plopped into the water beside him.

"MY PFP!!!!!!!!" he screamed, and dived under. In record time, he emerged again, the electronic device in his hands, and swam to safety, his savior of a hand holding his PFP high in the sky and away from the water. His legs shuddered as they felt dry land once again. The droplets clapped at his survival. He stepped forward and nearly toppled over. He cursed- the paralysis of fear was still seizing him. He didn't know where to go, but a part of him led him forward, to the closest thing to him.

A kotatsu.

It laid in wait in the middle of the white coral sand heap he stood on. Three cups of tea, all steaming, stood at the ready for him and whoever else was coming.

He looked up, and the eyeballs looked back. Then he examined his surroundings. The water, what he had fallen into, did not stretch for long, instead cresting in the shape of a bowl suspended in the air.

He groaned, and shot a glare at the arrangement, all too knowing of what was to come.

"So…" His glaring eyes scanned the surrounding. "What is this about?" His hand whipped the water out of his game console.

Sand crushed and rubbed against each other from the left side.

Someone entered into view.

Nikaido Yuri.

Or, as she'd liked to be known as: Dokuro. Dressed the same as before, in her teaching getup, a hooded jacket and hanging a skull mask off the side of her head, with her hagoromo hung round her in swags.

He, frankly, wasn't expecting that.

"EEEEEEEEEEEH!?"

Keima screamed through his fish lips as his feet instinctively slid his body backward, with his finger pointing at the rather irritated Dokuro, "W-WHY ARE YOU HERE!? ISN'T THIS SCENARIO BASICALLY BEGGING ME TO BE SPIRITED AWAY BY YAKUMO YUKARI, LIKE ALL THOSE FANFICTIONS THOSE CON ATTENDERS WERE TALKING ABOUT!? Y-YOU SHOULDN'T BE IN THIS EQUATION!! ANSWER ME, NIKAIDO!!"

Dokuro, with a sigh to start, ruffled her fringe and muttered to him, with much annoyance in her gesticulation, "When did you start dreading to see me, huh? I was expecting you to start kissing my shoes, or something."

A giggle took their attention aside. Keima turned cold.

The main player of the game entered the scene.

"Ah," the anomalous presence exhaled with pleasure, taking each dainty step with a stride befitting kings and queens. Air did not just move aside for her. Her very existence, a lacuna in the consciousness of mortal beings, seemed to erase the air by passing through. No footsteps left themselves to be seen on the sand.

"I didn't think you two were this close, Dokuro."

Keima watched, in sheer fearful wariness, as one side of the kotatsu's blanket rose to accommodate the visiting thighs. How could it be possible? Heaven and Hell, ninja, and now _this_?

"Come, come."

Yakumo Yukari, the Gap Youkai, Phantasm Stage Boss of Perfect Cherry Blossom, game character revealed to be more real than world peace, and original proposer of the Hakurei Border, beckoned.

"I've seen how you act in games. Now to see you act your age and mortal status, 'God of Conquest'~"

O - O - O - O

It took him a while, but it had dawned in him that all this was a bit too ridiculous for him to even fully grasp. Him, with both Dokuro and Yukari on both sides- a Devil, perfectly believable, at this point, but a woman originally portrayed as a game character? No, no, something must be wrong, here. He must be dreaming, that's it. Even those Shinobi in Asakura were at least bearable. This? This couldn't be anything more than some sort of delusion of his, a drunk hallucination stemming from his successful capture of the Gap Youkai herself.

But he couldn't think further into that topic, for Yukari's eyes laid upon him now. The two had been sipping at the tea all the while, keeping the silence dragging and painful, but now something stirred. He grimaced. He didn't want anything stirring; he just wanted to wake up.

"Katsuragi."

He hadn't even given her his- Oh, nevermind, that was the least of his worries.

The Gap Youkai, with her dainty hands, moved his cup of tea closer to him. She smiled, and said in offering, "Please, you must try this. It is superb. It will also calm your nerves- I promise you."

"Uh, y-yeah, thank you," he replied, unable to refuse, and hurriedly drank the drink down. To his surprise, it was good. Hmm, what do you know? It was… actually as she said. Good temperature, proper steeping time, familiar taste, all in this little cup. A nice tinge of the green tea's origins flooded him, and the waves were good at relaxing the tension in his muscles. And then he chapped his lips-

"Ah, Katsuragi," Yukari spoke again to the quiet, shuddering and shadowed boy, "Your mother wanted you to know that she's managing the store fine. Eri also misses you a lot."

Familiar taste, all in this little cup.

Her words.

And then it all came to him.

Keima's throat near garroted itself. He twisted the cup so he could see what was emblazoned on it.

 _Café Grandpa_.

 **The** Yakumo Yukari knew where he lived.

The great Youkai chuckled at the boy's unresponsiveness, clearly enjoying the torturous implications she had planted in his mind. Turning her attention to Dokuro, she began to speak, "Now, about our deal. I believe he is adequate for the task at hand. Your recommendation of him was… how should I say: a well-thought choice."

"W-wait," Keima stammered, having just now broken the sheer horror he had been engulfed with moments ago, "W-what task? Dokuro, what's she-"

His lips slammed shut the moment Yukari's hand laid upon his. His palm felt the heat of the cup, but that seemed like nothing to her frigid touch.

"I've read about your… past achievements, Katsuragi."

P-past achievements? What was she-?

"And… what is this about using love? Ohohoho, you are a splendid specimen in the Runaway Spirit Squad. Or, were. Until now, and again, might I add?"

Love? Runaway Spirit Squad? Were- until now- again?

"A very well-made choice those Devils of New Hell made in sending this lost soul to me."

Two pairs of eyes watched as Keima ceased to function. Patient as they were, they waited. Dokuro grimaced, and Yukari grew ever more entertained in that period of time. And then, as if by some stroke of genius timing, Keima shot up from his seat, and rushed to drown himself in the water.

He was not taking anymore Capture targets. Katsuragi Keima had thrown that past of his aside, and only wished to look into the future between him and his significant other. No more kissy-kissy goo-goo, no more leaving Chihiro aside, no more supernatural shenanigans, NO MORE OF ANY OF THAT. HE'D ALREADY RISKED HIS LIFE FOR THE CAPTURE TARGETS, THE GODDESSES, NEW HELL, AND, MORE RECENTLY, DAMN SHINOBI! HE WASN'T DOING IT WITH SOME MAKE-BELIEF WORLD THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST!!

And so, with his mind in resolute, he swan-dived into the water. He hoped his PFP would go to Heaven with him.

And then he knocked over the tea cups.

"EH!? HUH!?" cried the dazed boy.

Why did he land on the table!?

Where was the-?!

Yukari's pointing finger and lustrous grin hinted enough for him to freeze in terror. He rolled his body and faced upward, and, sure enough, a gap hovered over him.

There was no way for him to escape. No allies were anywhere near that were strong enough to rip him out of this prison. Nothing could stop her from finalizing the deal of death.

Keima broke. His body slumped onto the wooden surface.

Dokuro, finding the circumstances preposterous, loudly cleared her throat in an attempt to reset the discussion. "Miss Yakumo," she began, donning a firm expression on her face, "It would be wise for you not to toy around with essentially your best bet in cleansing Gensokyo of Runaway Spirits."

Yukari chuckled in response. With one hand and one pull, she took Keima off the table and on to the ground. One glance later, and she said to the limp, hopeless carcass on the ground, "You stave your tongue, for a moment, okay? This is a discussion between grownups."

And there, on sacred ground, Keima lain as the two continued their discussions. No, the God of Conquest was not patiently listening and clandestinely making the best arguments against his re-entrance into capturing Runaway Spirits. He had, essentially, stopped working, and his brain was trying to put back the pieces.

Reasons and arguments, debates and discussions, all these forms of discourse thrown themselves around his psyche. Nothing added up, or made any remote amount of sense to him. Why would Dokuro think to torment him even further? How did an entire fictional world actually exist? How were the Runaway Spirits still moving around, much less entering said fictional world? The brain of a Master of tolerance could not even begin to understand the implications. And then thoughts of the technicalities began pouring in: who was his buddy? Who were his targets? How was **anything** going to work, this time?

Would he have to woo real-life women again? After he'd promised Chihiro not to? His face crumpled into melancholic regret.

Is God dead?

 _NO!_

 _I have to get out of this deal! I've had it with these damn Capture Targets in my damn life! COME, BODY, I NEED YOU TO FUNCTION AND PROTECT MY LIVELIHOOD!_

"WAIT. A. MINUUUUUUUTTTTTEEEEEEE!!!!!"

With all his might, he forced himself up from his lifeless burial, so much energy used in his movement that he had to use his two hands to stop his head from banging the table. No one spoke. Good; it meant that he had successfully stalled the discussions and given him the opportunity to speak.

"Dokuro!" he began, shooting a look at her, much to her chagrin, "I thought your last 'request' was your actual last. You **guaranteed** it!"

"Well, it was supposed to, but you have to understand Miss Yakumo's standing with those in New Hell-"

"AND YOU, YAKUMO YUKARI!" He now shifted focus to her, this time with a dictatorial finger at the ready.

"Yes?" she replied, a nonchalant airiness in her voice.

"You're not supposed to be real."

"In a world where Devils, Spirits, Gods and Goddesses and the concept of Hell and Heaven are real, anything fits."

"But you first appeared in a game." His voice was low, growling, exasperated from the seething anger bottled within.

"Yes, and in some alternative universe, those Shinobi star in a game, and **don't** exist. Your point?"

"My point is that I don't want anything to do with this!"

The God of Conquest was pretty desperate.

"Wait, Keima-" Dokuro reached out. He answered her plea by falling back-first to the ground, and flailing like a child.

Touché.

"I DON'T WANNA, I DON'T WANNA, I DON'T WANNA DO THIS AGAIN! YOU PROMISED ME, DOKURO! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

In the circumstance where nothing works, acting like a baby can make you look less reliable and harder to work with, thus invalidating any requests thrown at you.

\- Katsuragi Keima, 201X

Dokuro, as expected, panicked. Her love for her onee-chan clouded her judgement, and she couldn't help but fret at the lost affection. "W-wait, I can explain, Keima! P-please stop acting like that in front of Miss Yakumo!"

Yakumo Yukari, on the other hand, mused at the display.

"Katsuragi, are you trying to prove to me how low you will go in completing a task? Because that is **exactly** what I want out of my employee."

In an instance, Keima snapped back into normalcy. With much prim and properness, he sat back up, and cleared his throat.

"I wish to be excluded from these terms," he stated, matter-of-factly, with a bluntness to crater mountains.

"Wish denied," answered Yukari along with her morbid smirk.

"I wish to repeal that repeal of my wish."

"What do I have to do to convince you to come?"

"Nothing. I don't want to go."

"Keima," Dokuro snapped, "There is no debate, when it comes to Miss Yakumo. Once she sets her eyes on you-"

"Quell the thought, Dokuro," the snickering Youkai interjected, much to her surprise, "He already understands that much. Right, Katsuragi Keima?"

One didn't need to properly examine Keima to know that he was sweating. She was right, and his stomach gurgled with rage at the notion. But he had to stand strong in the face of this unmovable wall.

For if God is caught in the impasse of the unstoppable and the Void, he would have to change all that by his own sheer willpower.

"Dokuro," he restarted his momentum, first focusing on his old acquaintance, "Why did you recommend me? You should know, as the character with specs like yours, that I… am in no mood to chase after Runaway Spirits, anymore!"

"We had no choice," she muttered, head hung low from some bout of shame, "Miss Yakumo rummaged through all our documents without our knowledge, and she found you. Your record was… how should I say it? 'Treasured', by the Eastern Branch of New Hell, so it's no surprise that she took an interest to you. I tried to stop her, but the superiors were having none of it."

"As **expected** of them."

Once again, the foxy Youkai, now casually resting her head on her hands, interjected. "It's not fun judging the souls of someone who's lived hundreds of years. Think of all the paperwork, and those feathers you have to put on that scale."

"We promise you, Keima, we'll prepare a sizeable reward for you if you accept! A-and we'll inform Kosaka and keep everyone safe whilst you're at Gensokyo!"

Keima wanted to speak up, but, before he could, Yukari raised her sly voice.

"A reward? I never promised anything of the sort. You will be sorely mistaken if you think that you'll be rewarded, my shikigami~"

"Miss Yakumo, please, he's been through a lot. We should at least compensate for his lost time. And no, that game does not qualify him as your shikigami."

"What? And let loose his lecherous mind with the idea that his lust is to be rewarded? As what that Darkness youkai would say, 'Is that so~'?"

"I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!"

Both women snapped their gazes at the source of the outburst. Dokuro stared bemused at him. Yukari giggled.

This was getting nowhere, Keima thought as much. What else could he do to get himself out of here? Dokuro wasn't helping, much to his disappointment, and Yukari was impenetrable. He was just running around in circles, grasping at straws, never finding even the first nail to push out from within his coffin. The frustration was not doing his body any good. None whatsoever.

Unfortunately for him, time was up. The clock he didn't even know existed ticked down to zero.

"Ah," Yukari suddenly exclaimed, much to the surprise of the two. When Keima turned to examine what had caused such a noise to exit from her mouth, he noticed a tiny gap right next to one of her ears.

Someone spoke to her.

What did she hear?

Who said what?!

 **What was it**?!

"It seems our time is up." She said this while she stood up. "Your Shinigami is christened, and ready to set sail~"

"Wait, **what**!?" yelled Keima as he himself shot up from his seat, "No, no, no, we're not done here, Yukari!"

"Hmm?"

Keima froze at the sight of her eyes beneath her fringe coming to look at him.

" **I** am done. So, the meeting is adjourned."

Got to stay calm and firm. "No, it isn't-!"

As he cried his last defense, Yukari opened two gaps, one above the other, both flattened horizontally. One word in his protest, and she positioned one hand above one, and the other hand below the other. Second word in, and she plunged both into their respective gaps.

Third word in, and the Gap that enveloped their horizon, sky and earth, opened like a chest. The city lights pierced through the liberated space.

Keima felt his heart nearly leap out of his stomach. Where… Where was this!? It couldn't be-!

Yukari's two hands held two empty rice bowls.

"We're in the middle of Lake Suwa, Katsuragi."

Keima turned to cast a grave, yet surrendering gaze.

Dokuro gulped.

He wanted so badly to collapse, right now. To die. To rid himself of this curse.

And Yakumo Yukari was ready to deliver.

"They're other ways of entering Gensokyo, you know?"

Then, without restraint, she stepped forward, moving with one step what a stride took to close the distance between her and the boy, and clasped one hand round his neck. He couldn't react quick enough, and she promptly held him in the air.

Dokuro couldn't even speak a word in protest.

"Enter through the barrier, through my gaps, through some other special force within you, all that dribble. Problem is that wouldn't work, now, and you can't meet your Shinigami…

"So you…"

She stepped closer to the water's edge. The moonlight gleamed on its metallic surface. Keima tugged, twisted and turned. He kicked and smacked and punched, but that did nothing but dirty her dress. Dokuro couldn't even fight back in protest.

"No, no, **NOOOOO**!!"

"Will go by Sanzu."

Keima's head plunged into brackish water.

The water geysered and toiled with his struggle, but her hand did not move. The unmovable object had begun to prove its point, with Dokuro as her humble guarantor.

Darkness encroaching.

Consciousness slipping.

Lungs dying.

The world of the present seemed so far, now.

His fingers touched water.

Then his waist.

Then everything was subsumed.

Keima didn't want to die.

Keima didn't want to **die**.

 _ **I DON'T WANT TO DIE!**_

But, fortunately for him, the next thing he saw- felt, smelled, heard, tasted- was dry land, tuffs of grass, a pleasant stream, trees, the smell of earth, the taste of fresh air, and his feet holding the full weight of his upright body.

 ** _What?_**

Keima blinked.

Was that all a sick dream?

Then he looked down, and realized something very off. When did he start wearing his yukata? The one he used during Minami's capture? He hadn't seen the thing, nor even thought to don it in months, now.

Why was he wearing…? Why couldn't he see the horizon, nor the sky? Why was it so foggy?

Then he looked to his left, and saw the boat next to the dock, the sleeping girl waiting at the rock, and the scythe.

Heart sank faster than iron on the water's surface.

That scythe sealed the deal.

O - O - O - O

New Hell's Far East branch was a flashy place in the realm of the Underworld, only second to its Western counterparts. With long, winding hallways, massive auditoriums, and a slew of shops for the Devil's pleasure, it was no surprise that the place was a hotspot for the newer generation of hip and upcoming stars of Hell's many divisions. The luxuries, the fashion, the newly redesigned scythes for the added flair and finesse; all that came together to create the new standard of essentials in a Devil's everyday occupation.

And Onozuka Komachi didn't want anything to do with.

Today wasn't a good day for the ferryman of Gensokyo's branch of the Sanzu River. Being one of the few ferrymen left in New Hell's catalogue of dying Devil occupations hadn't helped in her movements, at all. Not only was it difficult for her to even drag her boat up from the surface to those Roads of Lights the New Hell denizens preferred to use- all because those higher-up assholes have completely forgotten about the class known as the ferrymen- the gawking from all the other Devils impeded all that she wanted to do. Was she that old-fashioned? All this wasn't even a few centuries ago, come on! Some were even talking behind her back, chiding her style and the curves of her scythe. She shrugged them off: these young weanlings wouldn't even stand a chance against her.

She was there when Old Hell rose to war. She was the few Old Devils willing to cut off their horns in defiance, all to prove to the new superiors their loyalty. And lastly, she was the one who kept that branch of the Sanzu and Higan clean from the corruption of the Almage-Machina war, a feat that contributed in the survival of the ferrymen as an occupation in and of itself.

In all honesty, now that she thought of her past achievements, she really had good reasons for sleeping on the job. She was a damn war veteran! She needed her beauty sleep!

Anyways, back on topic, she hadn't expected herself to be called back into the Far East Branch's headquarters so quickly. It had been but a passing day, like any from before, with her ferrying the dead of Gensokyo through the Sanzu river; same as always, right? But suddenly, before she could snooze and wait for some other thousand-year living youkai to die, her Enma called for her. Headquarters had asked for her presence, and she was not delighted to please. That old gas mask that World War 2 veteran gave her upon his final boating trip wasn't working on the corruption spread around Hell's surface, and carrying her boat was, as stated before, a chore she hadn't wanted to experience since many years ago, when she beached the thing inside the offices of the Ministry of Right and Wrong- of all places- due to a malfunction of her powers over distance…

Oh wait, she could've used those powers during her ascending… Hmm, she really must be getting old, huh?

In any case, during her stroll towards… wherever, she didn't know, it was some fancy name or something like that, she had gotten herself lost. Annoying, considering the architecture of the Ministry of Right and Wrong would've easily fixed everything if it was just stapled on the mess that was this floating building.

She shook the useless thoughts away, and began to ponder. What should she do, in a time like this? Lost, in a building she hadn't visited since its first opening. Perhaps she could call upon one of the Devils to give her directions. Sure, she thought; just because she didn't understand their aesthetics, didn't mean that they weren't useful.

"Hey, you."

No, that wasn't her calling anyone. It was someone calling her, instead. Komachi turned to the voice.

"Yeah, you."

Three Devils greeted her curious sight. One looked up and down her body, the other gave some reason-less pout, and the one in the middle, tanned and rivaling her in buxom, gave a confident smirk at the sight of her front. All three had a pair of horns, signature features of Old Hell Devils.

And all three didn't recognize her.

"What's with the getup, huh?" the middle one critiqued, "I didn't think there was a Devil out there who thought looking like some geisha was still considered trendy."

Komachi exhaled, rather unimpressed. "I dress for the job, not to titillate," she remarked, a snarky tone in her voice, "Besides, it's comfy enough for dozing off."

"Oi, don't talk to Nora like that!" one of 'Nora's' friends snapped at her, "Nora's a district chief, so how about you listen to her advice and wear something better than that schlock!"

"Yeah, yeah, you tell her, Camry. And besides, what's with that scythe you have?"

Nora promptly began to look at her weapon as the other girl continued.

"Did you fail your class and bribed your way to a pass, or something? It looks almost broken!"

Komachi's teeth clenched. Was she that arrogant when she was younger? And that high-pitched? Bah, she'd rather just leave and find her own way to wherever those superiors wanted to meet her. It'd be a lot less effort than communicating with them! Turning her back on them, she-

"They don't give scythes like those away, anymore."

Camry and Cresta stopped in their tracks. Both turned to their friend. What did she just imply, there?

Komachi halted and, in some display of her inward glee, gave a halfway glance to the supposed de-facto leader. "Yeah, they don't."

Both Nora's henchmen, Camry and Cresta, looked in confusion at their leader. They couldn't understand the stirring in her widening eyes, and broken facade of cockiness, nor was the increasingly confused face she was pulling registering with both of them. A shake of her head, though, dispelled the look Nora had, and with a firm and commanding hand, she ordered her, "Give me the scythe. I need to identify its legitimacy, right now."

Camry and Cresta descended into even more ape-ish befuddlement, exchanging between themselves as to what the meaning of her words were.

"Sure."

Much to their surprise, Komachi offered the weapon to her, but, before she could close the bridge between the handle and her palm, she added, with much self-congratulatory snide, one last bit to her sentence:

"Pretty ironic for some Old Hell Devil…"

Hesitation. The Devil in question looked up to her pensioned face.

"To want to touch the scythe of Onozuka, huh?"

Nora's hand- no, her entire body, shot back.

"W-what?" The gurgled seizure of her voice sputtered,"O-Onozuka?"

"N-Nora? What's wrong?!"

Suddenly, the Devil pushed her friends aside, and, stepping forward, she bowed almost ninety-degrees towards her. Then she rose, and bowed again, and again, and again, all the while begging for forgiveness. Camry and Cresta blew their own minds with the indulgence of the sight.

"I'M SORRY, LADY ONOZUKA! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS YOU! I'M SORRY!" pleaded Nora, in front of her two friends.

Komachi chuckled at the display, and knocked the end of her scythe handle on the marble floor three times, a signal to her superiority. Well, that at least pleased the shinigami. She never did have an underling to go off on, unlike her Enma and her.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout that," she dismissed in care-free fashion, having realized that she felt rather uncomfortable in the presence of such easily-subjugated underlings, "My horns are off, so it's to be expected."

Camry and Cresta watched with paralyzing awe.

"Y-yes, Madam Onozuka-"

"Hey, I'm not that old."

"M-Miss Onozuka-"

"Komachi's fine, y'know?"

"K-Koma-"

"Okay, okay, you don't have to say my name so many times- you're making me blush! So, Nora, was it?"

"Yes?" muttered Nora in a sheepish tone, trembling against the blossoming history of the ferryman.

"Do you know where the big bosses' offices are? I gotta meet them, and fast."

Nora was happy to help, and, Komachi suspected, impress. Without so much as a goodbye, she left her friends alone and led her around the discombobulating layout of the location. During the trip, the tanned Old Hell Devil began having her own one-sided conversation with her, calling her some war hero, of sorts, praising her of her accomplishments and making envious remarks to her status and said accomplishments. Komachi hadn't wanted any of it, to be honest, but, then again, she supposed letting some junior gush about whatever was a better alternative than making her bottle them up. And, of course, being praised and looked up upon was enjoyable, and she couldn't help but poke her for more of the stuff.

Camry and Cresta couldn't catch up.

Still, some of the things this Nora spoke of flew way past her head. What was this about districts and the likes? Vintage? She hadn't heard that name in years, especially after some fool offered her a place in it. The Old Hell worshipping and extremist mumbo-jumbo that messenger spouted made him an easy candidate for the Sanzu to consume. Even more interesting to her was the weird cloudy fabric round all the Devils, now. What was that? She dared not ask, from fear of her status being soiled by her ineptitude with New Hell's trends.

Before long, they arrived outside one of the larger atriums for meeting.

"It's a good thing I know the place, yeah?" said Nora as she looked to see whether or not the door was recognizable to her memory, "The chiefs should be waiting inside; besides, it's where they usually meet up."

"Well, well, thank you Nora," answered Komachi. In the midst of the tanned girl's outspoken expression of gratitude, one she lent a deaf ear to, she opened the door.

She walked in.

The door closed, Nora's farewell cut short by it.

Komachi scoffed at the adoration, but for now she had to focus on other things than the admiring youth. With her face molded into that of grave trepidations, she looked up.

Ten screens loomed over her.

A quake shook the room. The roof, the walls and the floor- all the illusions that made homely this abode- faded away. She felt gravity take hold, and promptly repelled its advances with her ability to fly.

And, there, she levitated, in the midst of Hell's Chair Devils. A little thing, amidst mirror-like tablets the size of grand skyscrapers. She, as expected, was unfazed by the display, opting to instead sling her scythe on her shoulder due to the tiredness of her arm.

Four, though, never turned on. The other six burst into life the moment she noticed the cracks in their etchings.

ONOZUKA KOMACHI, ARE YOU PRESENT?

"What? You guys gone blind, or something?"

A silence drew out. And then, when it seemed like no one was actually there, one of the Chair Devils spoke up.

HEY, KOMACHI~ IT'S BEEN SO LONG, HASN'T IT?

"Wait, Aldefar Illich Leventor!? Whoa, when did you get promoted!?"

UH, PLEASE-

OH, JUST TWENTY YEARS AGO, GIVE OR TAKE! HOW'S LIFE FERRYING EVERYONE TO THE ENMA, HMM?

"It's all good, and-"

PLEASE, CAN WE NOT-

OOH, DO YOU STILL TAKE THOSE NAPS OF YOURS~?

"Yup, but my boss doesn't like it, as always."

AHAHAHA! STILL THE STUCK-UP PRINCESS, HUH?

Someone slammed their table.

SHUT UUUUUUUP!!!!!!

"Hey, it's pretty rude for you to interfere with two old friends catching up."

YEAH, GOROGORO, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?

W-WAIT, WHAT?

AND TO THINK YOU'RE THE CONSULTANT TO THE ASSOCIATIONS FOR TEACHING HISTORY TO LITTLE DEVILS.

"What, really? Didn't think you had the stuff, last time I saw you."

Someone else cleared their throats.

MISS ONOZUKA, IF YOU MAY, LET US GET THE DISCUSSION ON THE ROAD.

Komachi sighed, and gave a little scratch of the back of her head before she conceded with a 'yeah'.

TELL ME, MISS ONOZUKA, ARE YOU WILLING TO PUT YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE TO ASSIST IN THE CONTINUED EXISTENCE OF GENSOKYO, THE WORLD WE OF HELL, THEY OF HEAVEN, THEM OF HUMANITY, AND SHE OF THE GAP, HAVE CREATED?

"Well, seeing as how you guys plopped the barrier perfectly on my spot of the Sanzu River, it doesn't look like I have a choice."

THEN LET'S DUMP AN EXPOSITION BOMB ON YOU, KOMACHI~

A HANDFUL OF RUNAWAY SPIRITS HAVE ENTERED THE HAKUREI BARRIER, AND HAVE FOUND FRESH VICTIMS TO INHABIT.

Runaway Spirits? That old news? Hadn't they wrangled those up, yet? Weren't they the ones living inside the hearts of girls or something to that level of sappiness? What were the ways of getting them out again? Helping them with their problem, right? Oh, she remembered someone saying love, like that was a good choice. She continued to listen, if only to learn more of this dissonance between what she knew and what was actually happening.

"And you're telling me this… why?"

WE WERE CONTACTED BY YAKUMO YUKARI OF THE ISSUE, AND BOTH PARTIES BELIEVE THE HAKUREI SHRINE MAIDEN IS NOT UP TO THE STRENUOUS TASK IN RIDDING THE VICTIMS OF THEIR SPIRITS. THUSLY, SHE WISHES FOR US TO SEND IN THE BEST WE HAVE INTO GENSOKYO. YOU WILL BE TEMPORARILY TRANSFERRED INTO THE RUNAWAY SPIRIT SQUAD, AND WILL SUPPORT THIS MEMBER IN THEIR ENDEAVORS TO RID GENSOKYO OF ITS LOOSE SOULS.

"Wait, then who's ferrying the-"

I WILL BE DOING THAT. I DO HAVE SOME EXPERIENCE IN FERRYING THE DEAD- CHECK MY RESUME.

DEVILS DON'T HAVE RESUMES, MOTERNASTER.

JUST A FIGURE OF SPEECH. BESIDES, I'VE DEALT WITH HER ENMA, BEFORE. ME AND HER GO WAAAAAY BACK.

"Well, well…" she groaned in bemusement. "Sure… I guess- 'orders from the higher-ups', an' all. So when am I expectin' them?"

VERY SHORTLY. YAKUMO DOES NOT LIKE TO WAIT.

YOU WILL BE GIVEN THE STANDARD RUNAWAY SPIRIT SENSOR, THE HAGOROMO, AND A CASE OF DETENTION BOTTLES.

"Ah, no need. I don't wanna use 'em-

WE INSIST, ONOZUKA.

"Okay, okay, sheesh."

IF WE HAVE PREDICTED WELL, THEY WILL BE ON YOUR BOAT-

"Ah, the Titanic."

E-ER, YES, THE 'TITANIC', AS YOU CALL IT. THE PROVISIONS WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU THERE.

"So which part of the border are they gonna cross?"

AH, THAT… UH, ANYONE WILLING TO TELL HER?

I WILL-

WE DECIDED ON LETTING HIM ENTER FROM ANOTHER ALTERNATIVE SOURCE.

"Eh? There's an alternative? Really?"

DUE TO THE-

WEAKENED BORDER FROM THE RUNAWAY SPIRITS BARGING IN, YAKUMO CONVINCED US TO DO THINGS A LITTLE… DIFFERENTLY.

OI, YOU WANNA TAKE THIS OUTSIDE, HUH?

HUSH, NOW, YOU UNCOUTH SON OF A FIEND.

OH, I'LL SHOW YOU THE SON OF A FIEND!

"Okay, okay! Look, that makes sense. But what other alternative is there?"

Throats cleared round the room.

THE SANZU RIVER.

Komachi's nonchalant casualness rocketed into utter disbelief.

"W-wait, the…"

THE SANZU RIVER, THOUGH MOST OF IT WE CANNOT CROSS DUE TO THE CORRUPTION, STILL CONNECTS TO ALL AREAS AROUND THE WORLD. BY FORCING HIM INTO ONE OF THE BRANCHES-

"F-forcing-?!"

WE REALIZED THAT A FERRYMAN COULD TRANSPORT HIM INTO GENSOKYO, BYPASSING THE BARRIER ALTOGETHER-

"DO YOU GUYS EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID!?"

WE MADE A **COMPROMISE** , ONOZUKA KOMACHI.

IF YAKUMO IS TELLING THE TRUTH, THEN SHE HAS A RELATIVELY SAFE WAY OF TRANSPORTING HIM INTO THE SANZU RIVER.

THE MOMENT WE FINISH, AND YOU EXIT THAT DOOR, IS THE MOMENT THE SQUAD MEMBER ENTERS THE SANZU'S BANKS, AND-

That was all Komachi needed for her to burst through the gates in a mad dash.

AAAAAND THERE SHE GOES~

There was no time for her to think.

To use the Sanzu as a method to enter Gensokyo was out of the question. It was never even supposed to be a question in the first place! There was no way that Yakumo could get someone into the Sanzu, when the only place anyone could enter it without the first criteria- that being death- being fulfilled, was smack bang in Gensokyo, itself.

She rushed past a surprised Nora, stumbled down the stairs, and, when the sweat of her skin was unable to even cling on to said skin, she dove into the docks, shaking the porous excrement off, and entered her boat. Devils cried and yelped at the wind displacing behind her.

She rigged her boat, and, ignoring the newly placed possessions beneath the middle plank, stood proudly on its front- well, if 'proudly' meant disheveled, wind-tousled hair and a nearly-undone kimono.

"Oh, fuck 'em for not telling me this sooner." The rivers of light crested round her as she tore forward.

In those few minutes, Hell had a shooting star pierce through its seams.

O - O - O - O

Takahara Ayumi found herself navigating through the nightly, slumbering streets of Maijima city, running in her signature mad dash through the dark, casting shadows that existed thanks to the street lamps for only a second at a time. She couldn't stop moving, couldn't cease the rush pivoting her legs. The drive within her would not slow her down, and that drive came in the form of Mercury's copious demands.

She didn't know why her Goddess had woken her up so suddenly, but said immortal being demanded her to move. Where? She didn't know, for her entire body was now under the command of someone she thought to be lethargic and incapable of strenuous exercise. She just hoped no one saw her at night, looking like she was running from some unseen molester, or something likened to that. And that no one noticed the holes she was making with her studded shoes she carelessly strapped on her feet in the ensuing hurry.

The mystery of it all, though, did not grant her any modicum of assurance. Mercury hadn't shown such energy before, and, knowing her priorities, she hoped nothing had happened to the boy who had to woo her twice: Katsuragi Keima. But the boy was miles away, so perhaps her worries were but false alarms. She hoped that to be the case.

Mercury, though, disagreed with her hopeful state of mind.

"Oh, Ayumi," the Goddess muttered as her silhouette emerged from a window she passed by, "Still thinking about the Keima boy, hmm?"

"H-hey," she retorted, beginning to pant, "I'm at least trying to… get over him!"

"Ah, you don't need to worry about that, anymore." The Goddess yawned at the end.

"What does tha-that mean!?

"Oh, you'll learn when you get there."

She hated it when she teased her, like that. No matter, she was feeling her legs start to slow down, anyway.

Her body stopped running outside of Tenri's house. Someone was already opening the gate, then, and, in the darkness, Ayumi couldn't make out the person.

"W-who's there?" she asked, wary, readying her fight-flight reflexes. One good stomp with these shoes would do the trick-

A soft, subdued voice answered back. "A-Ayumi!?" She recognized it almost immediately.

"Shiori? Y-your Goddess got called, too?"

There was no audible answer, but she could see from the darkness her head tilting down in a hesitating nod.

The two wordlessly entered, and, as they approached the front door, it opened on its own, much to their surprise. A seconds hesitation later, and a hand poked out from behind the door.

"Come, come, let yourselves in," a suave, yet subtly feminine voice, entered their ears, and then the body of Goido Yui entered their sight, "We've been waiting for the two of you."

Ayumi grew ever more doubtful. Sure, the presence of one of her more well-known friends subconsciously brought some of the load off her chest, but the realization that technically four Goddesses were in one place made everything so much more dire.

"Ayumi?" Shiori's voice snapped her out of her short-lived trance. The librarian had already passed the door's barrier of entry, and had been waiting patiently for her to do the same. She, without any more delays, rushed in, and shed off her footwear.

Turning to Yui, she asked in her exasperated voice, "Are all of them here?"

"What? The Goddesses and their hosts? Yeah, their in Tenri's room, upstairs."

They were all here.

Oh my God.

What happened?

The stress and tension mounted. She rushed upstairs, while Yui and Shiori followed slowly behind, the former's welcoming smile faltering with each step, and the latter inches from crouching down and curling into a ball.

Upon entering her destination, Ayumi was blessed with the sight of the three other hosts of the pantheon sitting on whatever made good makeshift chairs- Tenri on her own study desk's chair, Kanon laying flat and contemplatively on the bed, and Tsukiyo on one of Tenri's magician boxes, having set it close to the window so she could gaze at the moon.

"We're all here," Yui spoke first from beyond Ayumi's back, before she beckoned her and Shiori to get some place to sit. Ayumi opted for the floor; Shiori continued standing; Yui joined her, but instead stood at the door.

"Humph," Tsukiyo harrumphed, "Where were you, Ayumi? I understand Shiori's lateness- Minerva isn't that fast- but you?"

"Mercury must've been lazy, or something," Kanon interjected, waving a forgiving hand in the air, "She seems like the type to not care at first."

Before there could be anymore playful banter to toss, the first speaker's voice suddenly drew itself low, and the graveness of her voice seeped into the room. "So, what's the problem?"

"U-um," Tenri answered, "D-Diana has something to say." She, then, held up a mirror, and the facade of Diana projected itself onto the surface. The Goddess hadn't changed at all, but there was a reason why she had to appear on a reflective surface, instead of manifesting herself in Tenri's body.

Months had already passed since the end of Keima's story with the Goddesses. The subsequent relinquishing of hopes and affections had very much weakened their powers, till they were only disembodied voices in their hosts' heads and hallucinations in their reflections. They would not disappear that easily, of course- Apollo made sure of that, by promising that the heart of someone wouldn't easily suddenly become devoid of the powerful thing known as love. Still, it made them much less effective, in the long run.

That prospect, and whatever risks lied ahead, did not faze Diana at all as she looked round the room. From here, she could see all her sisters, making themselves known on all the surfaces that could hold them. She cleared her throat, and began her terrible stream of news.

"Sisters, and hosts, something terrible has occurred."

The hosts shook at the news. The Goddesses either grimaced or teared at what they knew was coming.

"Katsuragi Keima is gone."

All six girls stifled their breaths. Yui asked an echoing "What?" at the revelation, clearly confused. The others exchanged baffled glances. Wanton disbelief filled the room. The mirror itself quaked from Tenri's shuddering limbs.

Was this what Mercury meant earlier? W-wait, what did she mean he was 'gone'. Dead? No, that couldn't- How-?!

A yawn broke the vomit-inducing atmosphere. Mercury, having stretched herself awake, leaned closer to the barrier that was the mirror on the other end of the room, opposite of Ayumi, and inquired, no hint of worry in her voice:

"Explain 'gone', sister Diana? How are we so-?"

"WHAT IS THERE TO EXPLAIN!" Yui's Goddess, Mars, yelled from her side of the screen, strangely enough the most devastated. "Keima is dead- that is what 'gone' means! We all felt it, did we not?! How our ties to him, just yesterday secure, were severed in an instance! A-and we weren't there to protect him… Who was it that done it… Who's so brazen enough to smite someone we swore to protect for his services which saved us from perish? I WILL FIND THEM MYSELF!!"

"Even with your powers, sister Mars," Tsukiyo's Goddess, Vulcan, argued her concerns through the doll, Luna, "Beating this supposed villainous group capable of taking down one who has out blessings seems too farfetched an act. I will follow you. Minerva, you as well- your powers are needed."

Minerva nodded her cute little head with unnatural eagerness.

"Eh, what about me~?" asked Apollo.

"Don't worry, we're all going! We will avenge him!"

"Eh?! S-so do you mean we have to endanger ourselves!?" cried Tsukiyo, her fluster evident in her face. Shiori shuffled with much nervous energy in agreement to her complaints. Yui bit her thumb in her own hopeless effort to calm herself down. Kanon looked ready to cry, her awkward cheeriness from earlier broken into pathetic pieces by the news and the implications she interpreted from them- even if she had a stun gun ready on one hand. Ayumi herself didn't feel comfortable even breathing.

What should they do- save for following Mars's advice.She hoped dreadfully that another alternative could come, or that something else could surface and change everything.

She had thought that she had gotten over him.

Everyone else- save for Yui- thought the same.

So why was despair still so deep?

"NOT YET, SISTERS!"

The room veered their eyes to Tenri's mirror. Diana, rendering herself unfazed by the sudden attention, spoke up, this time louder, more commanding, and much more reassuring to the audience in the room, "Just because his presence has disappeared, doesn't mean he is completely dead."

"W-what?" Someone in the room asked back, incredulous. No one had any attention or bother to spare and check who it was.

"A person dying does not immediately disappear from the world. Their soul usually linger for a little more, before they truly, properly disappear and enter the afterlife. Keima's disappearance… it's too instantaneous, much like a…"

"Spiriting-away." Vulcan, as if struck by a dawning realization, finished her sentence.

"S-spiriting-away? Like in the movies?" opined Kanon.

"Eh? What would even do that? Spirit him away? To where?" Ayumi asked, dishing out the questions like there were no tomorrow to ask them.

"I do not know, Ayumi," Diana answered, veering her own gaze away in unabashed shame, "We are at a… a lack of data of such occurrences."

"Yeah," Apollo took over the lead, "Spiriting-aways are really rare~ They do make good excuses when someone disappers off the face of the Earth, but that's not the point, is it? You'd usually need a lot of magical energy for that, though, so how someone's able to get that much without being some higher being like us, I don't really know."

"B-but that does mean he's not dead, right?" interrupted Yui, her tone forceful and frantic.

"Yes, yes, that could be the case, but if we don't know how he died- or how he was spirited-away- then we will be lost on what to do till that time comes…"

The room grew quiet from the answer.

Breath shuddered as if winter had seized the throat.

No one had anything to say- the distress having stopped their brains from even working as intended. To even think or assess their options in the foreseeable future was something none could comprehend. Their consciousness, the reason they, the hosts and the Goddesses, existed, completely dedicated itself on the devastation in front of them.

And then Ayumi's phone rang.

Chihiro's number flashed on the screen.

O - O - O - O

The Gap Youkai patted away the drenching substance off her hand. Oh, she could very much feel Dokuro's gaze burn on her back, but she didn't mind. She had had many glares of that caliber upon her before, and it would only take but a simple moment of indifference for them to 'get to the point'.

"His body."

"Hmm?" Yukari drawled as she turned to her compatriot, the hem of her clothes rubbing against the sand. "What of it?"

"Where is it?"

Ah, so that's what she meant. She, initially, chuckled at her concerns, then at the Devil's bitter expression. After the short session of mockery, she asked her, "Do you know how magically volatile Lake Suwa is?"

Dokuro shuffled in her spot, the look never leaving her face. "Are you telling me this place is another gateway to Gensokyo?"

So… she didn't know? Yukari pitied her lack of knowledge over anything. Shaking her head, she then continued:

"Coincidences and the likes: one forgotten Goddess casted her magic in this place to go to Gensokyo, but she… used a bit too much, if I may say so, myself. Residual magic flows with the current. It gravitates to areas devoid of magic, but is also influenced by minute things: the wind, the seas and skies, all that, and what do you know," she held up one of the bowls she had used to encapsulate the surrounding, "Lake Suwa is a nice bowl to catch falling residue. Other Youkai and forgotten relics pass through Suwa frequently, and, just by sensing the leftovers, they learn; they remember of the safe haven beyond the Border. Slowly, the residue builds up from all these youkai finding their ways into Gensokyo, and it all collects beneath the lake. One day, that old bake-danuki- an acquaintance of an acquaintance of mine- did the same thing, here, on the very shores of this watery body. Now that was troublesome."

"What made it so?"

"That was the straw. The excesses thickened. It curdled like whey. And when so much teleportation magic residue is stuck in one place…" Yukari paused. The sight of the cityscape enraptured her for a brief, yet somber moment, till she could not help but marvel at the ethereal sight. A city of technological and scientific progress, built around a lake filled with a past long forgotten- poetic. How did a city like this become such a hotspot for magic? No, such questions were of no concern at the moment; she could not leave Dokuro hanging.

"Let's say the transition of one's body and spirit becomes a much more... complicated affair."

"So you're telling me-"

"Yes." She exchanged a glance to her. "The process of the afterlife is disrupted. What should be Katsuragi's body floating in the water, is instead nothing."

"So he's not dead?"

"No. The magical residue has fooled the cycle. He should be dead, yes, if I actually went the extra mile to actually drown him- but I'm not the kind of Youkai to kill people that simply. Instead of his soul, though, his teleportation-magically-charged body has been taken, as well, completely intact, and very much alive. Savvy?"

"A living person," Dokuro, in her absentminded daze, laid slip a concern from the crevices of her mind, "In Hell; in the Sanzu River."

"Oh, yes, my dear Dokuro." Yukari giggled at the end, but quickly composed herself to finish off the meeting within the night. "Now, let us wait and see, shall we?"

She could see the anxiety in Dokuro's body as it came to stave her tongue and answer. She needed not the postponement- watching the boy succeed was much higher on her list of top priorities, and perhaps also attending to her shikigami, who were surely fretting over her sudden departure, and maybe tease Reimu over something, and maybe…

Oh, she had lots to do, that was the point. And she wanted to do all of it, quickly.

"Ah, before that! Let me deal with Kosaka, if you may?"

Before Dokuro could even answer, she gapped the scene away.


	2. Alive in the Sanzu

_Back again, I am, with a new chapter in tow. I'm grateful to all you guys who favourited and followed this story. I'm not disappointed in the lack of reviews, though (as of writing this), because you aren't obliged to do so. I won't force you guys to do that._

 _I forgot to inform you all last chapter, but I'm posting this through the app. I live in Malaysia, which some of you may know as the country that banned the site, but for some reason left the app untouched. If there's any formatting issues on desktop, then I have no way of finding them out. It generally looks fine on the app, anyway._

 _In any case, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to anyone who follows and favourites, but of course we can't forget those who come by and enjoy themselves without doing such. You're not beholden to me: do what you will, all I ask is your attention and the notion that you guys are enjoying the stuff I write._

O - O - O - O

Keima faltered in his stand, till his legs gave way. His frail arms couldn't even hold him upright. By the end of his collapse, he was only a feeble half-corpse on the dirt.

 _I'm dead._

The words kept repeating in his mind. He couldn't stave off their flow, couldn't quell their insistence, couldn't do anything to remedy **anything**. God had broken down. God did not cry, but his dams creaked as the Great Flood stressed its beams. What was he to do, now? How does one come back from the dead? How does one contact their loved ones in the afterlife, if only to reassure them and give them the false, yet comforting hopes that he was, quote unquote, 'fine'. Was there some phone booth close by for him to do so? Could he hire a messenger for such a thing? Would the Devils he was acquainted with even help the man who, once so incandescent in life, now crumpled like a decaying piece of trash?

His hands, their nerves and command centers sleeping due to his brain's surrender, slithered down some hidden pocket in his yukata, all by instinct, and pulled out- what do you know?- his PFP. The damn thing came with him. He didn't know whether or not to be ecstatic or devastated at the fact. For it meant that even in death all that the phenomena could offer him was this, either out of pity, or cold, ironic mocking.

His hand positioned it at his face, and he turned it on. The volume blared, maximized for better immersion and induction of deafness, and the screen lit up. His weak eyes looked to the battery. It was full. One last blessing, or lingering curse, from Providence. He purses his lips. Was this what it felt like experiencing his PFP for the final time, before his final moments?

And so he…

No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't play the game in the PFP. Providence didn't even take the effort of replacing that damned Touhou fangame still in the console. It hurt to even see it, and so, in response and out of spite, he took out the damn thing, tossed it aside with weak arms, and instead opened the mail.

All the fan mail from his beloved followers spilled into his conscious. The praise, the requests, the invitations, everything was there for him to see. They weren't his concern, though. He opened the search bar, and typed in Chihiro's name.

One mail popped up.

Received a few months prior.

He strained his eyes.

 _Out of all the girls I had to go after, I chose you._

After what he had to go through, was it all going to end, like this? His ending was only the progenitor to… this? Oh, why was despair so overbearing to the boy?

Keima's parched lips moved. His husky voice wanted to talk to her.

"I…"

Lips chapped. Saliva dried in an instance as his Holiness breathed his last words.

"I love you…"

And then it all shattered into tiny little pieces, when the butt of a scythe handle knocked on his head.

" **Oi** , why didn't you wake me!? I waited for damn near an entire hour, man!" the hotheaded Shinigami screamed in her wrathful self as she entered into a period of flurrying blunt-stabbery. Keima, so shocked by the shattering of his solemn melancholy, could only struggle on the ground in sheer horror and animal instinct.

Keima never screamed so loudly.

"UAH! **AHHH**!?"

He screamed, oh he did screamed as the pain immobilized his torso, yet not his limbs, to the floor, "OWOWOWOWOW!!! STOP! STOP! I'M ALREADY DEAD ENOUGH!!"

Then, as quickly as it had begun, this sadistic stranger let up her barrage, and Keima was allowed to stand. With weak feet- not from mental depression, but the physical depressions she had left in his stomach and face- he stood, and faced her.

The ferryman scoffed at his feebleness, before she asked, rather whole-heartedly and in newfound wide-eyes amazement, "Wait, did I… Did I get the wrong guy? You… no way, the higher-ups couldn't have sent **you** , right?"

"Huh?" Keima groaned, rather angry at her prior actions, "Yukari killed me, not whoever you're talking about-"

He paused. Komachi lifted a brow in response.

He recognized her.

"Ko-"

Keima immediately took ahold of his tongue. Onozuka Komachi was real. Oh no, don't tell him Gensokyo was real, as well… Then again, why the disbelief? A damn one-of-a-kind Youkai killed him, so why wouldn't he even believe this? His examination of her appearance was meticulous: the same wear she had in Touhou 09, that crazy scythe that looked like it came out of the smithy wrong, and her signature styling of hair; all the identifiable features were there, leaving no room for imagination to stretch and exercise. What was left was whether or not the fandom even had her personality in the bag, or not.

Still, he had to note one thing, though: she was **tall** , almost a head taller than he was, and the imposing nature of her shadowing figure gave him uncomfortable vibes.

One other thing stood out. She had a hagoromo floating around her, and the telltale sensor was pinned on her right breast. She was a Runaway Spirit Squad member? When? No, even worse: was she his Shinigami, and he her buddy? The implications wrought his mind. This character who brought the incident of Touhou 09 up was actually his partner. This must be a dream, because this was just insane.

Everything seemed preposterous, now, but that was not the only reason he didn't say her name. She was a game character- or, at least, she starred in one.

What would happen if she, or, worse, everyone found that little tidbit of their lives out?

 _I-if this is what I think is going on, I shouldn't reveal anything._

Komachi tilted her head, disturbed by whatever was going on in his thoughts. His mind brewed for a moment, pondering the thought, before he concluded with an inward resolution in his glance.

 _Tabula rasa: just be a blank slate, for now._

O - O - O - O

"AH!!!"

The weird device the boy was playing with flipped into the air.

"W-whoa!?" Komachi screamed at the sudden burst of panic. She watched, speechless, as the boy turned away and yelled disjointed, fearful exposition all around him.

"W-WHERE AM I!? WHAT DID THAT WEIRD LADY DO TO ME!?"

"Uh… you okay? Didn't you just say that you-"

Keima snapped his terrified face to her so fast that she flinched and lost her train of thought.

"Y-YOU'RE A SHINIGAMI!? PLEASE!" Much to her surprise, he lunged forward and grabbed the collar of her blue vest, pulling himself closer to her face. Without much time for respite, she felt him tug and push her almost into a garrotting.

"TELL ME WHERE I AM!?"

"Oi, oi, stop it-"

" **PLEASE**!"

"OKAY! JUST STOP IT!" With a hard shove, she shed the actor off her, not hard enough to push him to the ground, but with enough strength to cause him to stumble backwards. Just in time, as well, she noted as she readjusted the chest area of her clothes: being harried like that in this kind of wear would never net the most straightforward of results.

"Look, calm down," she ordered, placing a fist on her waist for added gestured effect. The boy nervously nodded in obedience, and she sighed at the newfound calm. Why was this guy acting so innocent and naive, now? "Okay, maybe we should clear things up. I don't know what Yukari did to get you here, but you look like you didn't get the memo at all. Do you work for the Runaway Spirit Squad?"

He nodded at her question.

"So you know what all this is about."

"I'm going to use the river to go to Heaven?"

Komachi deadpanned at him. "N-no, that ain't the case. By the looks of it, you're fortunate enough not to even be dead."

A genuine look of surprise flushed the boy's face.

"Eh?"

She tilted her head to the side, frowning at the cluelessness. Then again, most, of not all, mortal men, were clueless on that. "It's like this: if you're dead, you'd have a pouch of coins with you, you follow? To pay for the toll for crossing. I know this cos I ferried souls before- so do you have one? A pouch, I mean."

She waited patiently as he checked his person. Now that she thought of it, that was a pretty standard kimono, if she'd ever seen one. Then again, she expected all those in the Outside world to be wearing something much more… hip? Was that the word to describe her boss's boss's choice of wear? Bah, as long as it didn't impede in their duties, then she was fine with what or whoever she had to follow around. She noticed him finishing, and in that moment she heard his reply.

"N-no?" he finally answered.

"Good. Even those who don't have any coin to spare at least have an empty sack. So you ain't dead. That make you feel better?"

He nodded meekly.

She had much to teach him, huh? How was he even the 'best' the Squad had to offer?

"Now," she gave a little roll of her shoulder bone and a heft of her scythe as she began, "How about we start? You and I are gonna be partners for a while, and we're gonna go through the Sanzu to get to our destination, okay? And if you're gonna ask, no, you can't go back till you finish this special task of yours. Bosses' orders."

"Sure," he simply replied before he took back his PFP and whatever else he had thrown on the ground, and waddled forward to the boat. She followed suite, tailing his back so he wouldn't escape. She was really expecting him to do just that, really, especially after what had just happened. There was something strange about him that she could not put her finger on, but that was the least of her concerns. She just wanted to finish this as fast as she could, and get back to her much less taxing job of sleeping at letting the Enma's words flow through one ear, out the next.

And so, with both on the boat, and an expository script readying in her head, she began the journey down the Sanzu.

Keima, on the other hand, schemed.

O - O - O - O

"So, you understand what Gensokyo is now, Katsuragi?" the ferryman reaffirmed to the boy, who was now facing her as she guided the boat with her scythe, after the rather short description she had presented him regarding the topic. He nodded in confirmation, to her relief, and she quickly shooed his gaze away so as to focus on the boating trip.

Katsuragi, on the other hand, let the explanation flow through one ear, out the next. Please, after his experience with the games, and discussions with the other fanboys, he at least had a basic understanding of the place: how it was created, the Hakurei Border, the Youkai and deities, the forgotten, all the likes. He had only looked to have listened. By currying the notion that he wasn't informed about the mythical, and once-fictional world of Gensokyo, he had effectively tricked Komachi into believing that Gensokyo wasn't that well-known a thing in the Outside World, contrary to what the massive fan base would indicate.

Still, he was sore of the circumstances that had befallen him. Without even breathing room to negotiate, he was on his way to kiss girls he knew wouldn't even remember him. Chihiro must have been in shambles, right now, unsure of what to do now that he was suddenly whisked from the night. Perhaps she could call the Goddesses, knowing that she at least knew of their presence since some time ago, during his captures of those Shinobi back in Tokyo, but what they could do struck him with no relief. They had grown weaker throughout the year, their host's love not reciprocated by him for so long. He couldn't reciprocate, anyways; their ending made no room for him to even try, and he had already chose his own path with Chihiro. Still, he supposed the only thing that could drag him out now was the Goddesses, unfortunately for him.

But wait a minute, that side of Katsuragi Keima, are you just gonna abandon those girls with Spirits hiding in their hearts?

 _Well, I should! I've been dragged around for too long! I thought I'd cut ties with Hell, but suddenly Dokuro comes back and pulls me aside to capture the hearts of damn Shinobi! Do you know how many times I've nearly died?! And now she comes back with a game character, of all people, and, without so much as a few words of protest, lets her basically **kill** me, tearing me away from a perfectly fine vacation with Chihiro! That's already a get-out-of-jail free card in the making, right there!_

But Keima, those girls need you.

 _Aren't there other ways of ridding spirits?_

Yeah, but you know them best.

On Keima's face dawned disciplined meditation. He supposed, with more research, and with some assumptions on the side, the canonical data he had of the Touhou Project series could help him. Perhaps that could, in the grand scheme of things, help him in his Captures? Shorten their time? He couldn't believe it: he was reasoning with himself over a literal kidnapping.

And you don't want them feeling sad, do you.

Well, he didn't want anyone feeling 'sad', but... hadn't he completely weaned himself of the capturing business? Gah, that part of him just couldn't understand why that **other** part of him wanted to keep going.

"Ah," Komachi's little exclamation snapped him out of his trance, "We're here."

Keima focused his eyes to the front, and, immediately, his mental crisis dropped into the Sanzu's water. He almost gasped in audible awe.

Komachi only smirked at the familiar sight.

There, in the middle of the brackish water! Land, hued with a flower garden of the most amazing meticulousness, stretching as far as his eyes could see. The shore over there sloped gently down, making a safe beach for the boat to dock and an easy ascent for those on their feet.

Was this-? No, this wasn't Gensokyo. This wasn't remotely in Gensokyo, at all. And then the gentle caress of the land's warmth reached his skin, and there he knew where this Holy Land was.

Higan. The other side of the Sanzu River.

"Y'know," Komachi began, a bit of a bragging side of her etched on her face, "During the war with Old Hell, I and a few of my friends kept this place safe and clean from the corruption. Yup, this's an old warzone, or somethin', if you can call it that. Don't look like it anymore, though."

Yeah, nice story, but, ignoring the beauty of it all, why were they here, anyway? He asked that exact question to the ferryman.

"Just gotta inform the Enma that I'll be gone for a while, that's all."

Oh, well, he supposed that made sense, in the context of the character herself.

Keima, at first, thought of staying in the boat to wait, but a part of him, relieved by his alive-ness, and hopeful that those in the Outside World would find a way to quell their conniptions and wait for him- no matter how painful that would be, or how long it would take- was trying to coax him to go further than just staying.

 _Oi, what's this feeling inside me? Is it… Is it the want to actually see the world of Touhou Project._

Now he couldn't even believe himself. This stupid brain of his was actually envious of the place he was in. And just moments ago, he was some moody man trying to get out of here. Now he wanted to fanboy about the place? When did Stockholm Syndrome come by so quickly.

It must be Higan… Yeah, the place must be making his emotions fluctuate…

"You sure you don't wanna come?"

Komachi called from the distance, her signaling hand peeking out from one of the hills. "The Ministry should be fine with Devil Buddies."

Keima, having just concurred that it was Higan, pursed his lips and trembled…

And then took off after her. In his stay in Gensokyo, he might as well experience what the place actually looked, sounded, felt, and maybe even smelled and tasted like. A part of him reveled in the gamer's dream. Another part of him cringed at the display of insensitivities.

Then again, his shoeless feet had never felt such soft flowers, before.


	3. Higan Retouring

The Ministry of Right and Wrong only looked large on the outside, where its pavements were lined with the scythes of countless Shinigami- war memorials, if Keima heard Komachi, correctly- and its pagoda-shaped structure towered up towards the darkened clouds till it could repel them to let one ray of sun shine on its majestic form. Inside was much, much larger, and much more crowded than he had expected. There were what he supposed to be the Enmas strolling by, and countless souls lying in wait for whatever and whenever anything happened. The place glowed, as well, perfectly well-lit without an inch of shadow, so perfectly brilliant that it felt surreal to exist without any such concept of having a shadow following you. Keima, though, found his surprise rather lacking, even before he realized that such a development had been seen in countless games before. There was no need for surprises here, he supposed, seeing how he wasn't gonna stay her for too long, anyways, and so without so much as a gawk or an 'oh wow', he followed the slightly baffled Komachi further in.

At one point of the tour, he was checking on an intricately carved entrance to somewhere beyond his imaginations, but was pushed aside by the now irritated ferryman. Upon laying his inquisitive eyes on her, she scolded him of the consequences:

"Don't think about touching that door. Inside's one of the courtrooms, and you don't wanna be in there when you're alive."

"Ah, so in there's what I see last, before I ascend?"

"Or descend," she solemnly retorted, before nodding a yes at his prior question. "Anyways, not every soul even goes through the Ministry, anymore."

"Why is that?"

"Well, New Hell's got better judging systems, now. The Ministry's a bit… old-fashioned, and a lot slower at what they do, and when you're trying to make trials for 6 billion people-"

"9 billion people."

"Whoa, what did you guys do, get together for some huge orgy or something?"

Keima deadpanned back.

"Anyways, when you're makin' trials for that many people, service's gonna be slow- like REAL slow. It's slow as it is now, and I don't think any of the big families of Hell want their kid- or their jizou statues- becoming crazy Enmas."

Keima nodded, understanding of her words. His curiosity over Hell, though, did not bloom, and he showed her that with faux-concerns that hurried her, and thus him, through the building. That was not something he had to write a thesis about, right now.

What he was doing, though, was just looking around to marvel quietly at whatever he fancied.

Before long, they arrived outside a door. With nonchalance, she dumped the hagoromo and her scythe on her new buddy- much to Keima's own surprise- and instructed him to wait, before she entered into the room. Keima, though, found himself astonished by the weight of what had been given to him. He cursed under his breath of the scythe's strain on his hands: so, without so much as a care for the consequences, he dropped the thing with a hard 'clang'.

Well, now that he was alone, he supposed he could check around the close vicinity. How high were they-

Ooh, very high. The window's view did not lie, at all.

And next to him was a potted plant.

Fascinating.

 _This place is really standard-looking, save for the main entrance. Wooden boards, glass windows, traditional Japanese architecture._

He looked at the door's frame, and that was when he noticed the name carved into the wooden plate next to the entrance.

He recognized it almost immediately.

Well, it made sense for Komachi to meet with her, seeing how she was the ferryman of Gensokyo, and this particular Enma was in charge of the same place. Still, it did provide him with a rather uncomfortable feeling in his head. He had received- and declined- a hugpillow of that character that morning, so to meet, or at least be in the proximity of, her gave him rather annoying trepidations that he himself had to contest and curb.

But then, all of a sudden, his ears caught the sounds of a group of feet traversing the floor, coming ever so closer to him. At first, it was but a soft thudding, but by the sounds of it it was getting closer by the second. Someone was, evidently, coming.

 _Ah, this development is…_

 _Wait a minute, what's with this development!? Komachi's in there, and if she isn't here to explain my presence, then what's going to happen to me!?_

But then he remembered her hagoromo. Without further ado, he struggled to get it to turn invisible.

"Oh, come on!" he whispered in sibilant agitation, "Work!"

The group drew closer. He could hear their voices now.

"How did I forget what Haqua taught me!?"

They were just round the corner-

And then Keima, in a moment of panic, stretched the hagoromo. In an instance, the thing flashed invisible. Relief, and promptly after, panic, overwhelmed him, and he hurried in donning the thing around him. The cloudy fabric enveloped his body, and with a second to spare, he had disappeared.

The group, as expected, passed by.

No one noticed the scythe on the floor.

Keima sighed in relief. His living presence in the world of the dead would have done him in, if not for the hagoromo, and he had to thank the thing for saving him.

Before he could do that, though, Komachi exited the room.

"Okay, I'm done," she said, before the absence of Katsuragi seeped into her consciousness. "Eh? Katsuragi? Oh no, did that idiot-?"

"I'm right here."

Not surprisingly, she jumped from the shock, shrieking out a cry as he tore the hagoromo off himself to shed off the invisibility that had cloaked him moments ago.

"W-what? You can do that!?"

"Eh? I thought all Runaway Spirit Squad members knew how to use the hagoromo?"

"Well, excuse me, then, for not knowing you, a buddy, knew how to, yourself," chided the insulted Komachi before she swiped the fabric off his hands.

Keima, on the other hand, let her have the thing, and inwardly sighed at her vanity.

A hand promptly smacked in the face.

"Why is my scythe on the floor!?"

O - O - O - O

The two descended down the Ministry of Right and Wrong without so much as a single word. It was not long, though, before they were once again walking in between the old scythe gardens around the building. Keima, rather disturbed by her silent treatment, and willing to believe that better relations with her would increase her chance of survival if danmaku were a thing, decided that, perhaps now, was a good time to do just that.

"So how is your Enma like?" he asked, breaking the silence between them. A simple question first, then the more complicated ones later, especially after her violent outburst just now.

Komachi, pleasantly surprised by the conversational starter, and fortunately forgiving of the fact that her scythe was on the spotless ground of the Ministry, was happy to answer back. "Oh, eheh~ She's a doozy to work with. Always lecturing people, and stuff. You know, even in her breaks, she goes up to Gensokyo to lecture people about this and that. Everyone's terrified of her wasting their day."

"Are you two close?"

"Bah," she waved her free hand at him, a jocosely dismissive smile on her face, "She's really stuck-up, especially with me. All because I just wanna snooze, too." Now she deflated at the thought. "She can have breaks, but I can't?"

"I don't know- I think she's just trying to make you do your best."

"Hey, I am! Well… 'was'. 'Sides, I think that old jizou statue's just jealous of my figure."

Keima made a convincing attempt to disbelievingly spit out all the air in his lungs. Sure enough, it worked.

"Hey, she really was a jizou statue before she got promoted!"

"No," the God of Conquest groaned as he wiped away anything that might have been left behind on his mouth, "I was reacting to your figure."

"Oh," she gasped, a light red blotching her cheek. Amused by his straightforwardness, she slammed a caroling hand on his back- nearly breaking it- and, in between a loud guffaw, said to the boy massaging his spine, "You perv! The Enma's gonna kill you for liking tits like mine! 'Sides, I just now got proof of her jealousy!"

"O-oh, really?" Keima answered, one twitching eyebrow raised.

 _HOW STRONG ARE YOU_

"Yup. Looks like this little sensor here," she pulled at her Runaway Spirit Squad sensor, the tugging pulling up some of the fabric and exposing a little bit of skin- either unintentional, or some way of teasing him after the last comment, "Is a lie detector, or something. She was there all 'Oh, sure, I'll be fine with your replacement', and when I tried to have a bit of fun with her- you know, 'So you're happy this busty ferryman's gone'?- and she said no, the thing started beeping, going 'dorodorodorodoro' and stuff! Coincidence? I think not. She even poked at it to shut it up. Seems she's not just jealous of them, huh? Hahahahahah!"

She laughed. Keima laughed too, so he wouldn't feel left out.

And they laughed, as they exited the scythe garden.

They laughed some more as they traversed through Higan.

And they, in their merry, got on the boat, still laughi-

" **WAIT A MINUTE**."

The boy- no, the teen Vajra, with teeth clenched and brumes of steam leaking from the gaps, with eyes wide with a wildness most were unused to, and with a gait comparable to that of real ghoulish monsters, might as well have snapped his own neck in his turning of it towards the Shinigami. The suddenness took Komachi off-guard, and she gave a little 'eep' at the sudden change, a failure of a good response, because now he was seething at her absence of any care, whatsoever.

"The sensor… It… **RAAAAAAAANG**?"

"Yeah," she, almost casual in her tone, answered. She even shrugged. "Lie detector, right?"

She cocked her head to one side, a joking, yet terribly assured grin on her face. She didn't really understand his concerns, especially since she just came out of some adult joke she cracked moments ago.

Keima looked at her like anyone would look at a sad village idiot.

Komachi's grin flattened. Something was really wrong with the way he looked.

Keima's right lower eyelid twitched.

Komachi's deadpanned mouth folded into a frown. Was he trying to tell her…?

Keima grew ever hollower in appearance.

And finally, Komachi realized.

"Y-you're not trying to say that… that she has a-?"

For Keima, palming his face was the right, and only thing, he could do in response to her realization.

The right, and only thing to do.

Komachi screamed her lungs dry.

" **YAMAXANADU HAS A RUNAWAY SPIRIT**!?"

The flowers swayed, listless, as the Sanzu River brought its next breeze upon the land of purity.


	4. Mindful Methodology

_Hahah, even more followers and favourites! I'm honestly happy about that, thank you so much. As long as I know you guys like what you're reading, I'm happy. It's nice knowing I'm making something people enjoy. In any case, thanks to my reviewers for saying you like it. If there are any problems, don't be shy to write it out._

 _Thank you very much, and please enjoy this new chapter today._

O - O - O - O

Moternaster Es Tsubakikin watched in expectant silence as the boat containing their selected members of the Runaway Spirit Squad dock themselves at where the ferryman of Gensokyo usually did. Chuckling at the presence of the boat that could, she pushed herself off the tree she had been resting upon, and shuffled to greet the new arrivals. Besides, the Chairwoman of the Association of Ferrymen Appreciation had to uphold herself to those standards. As a former ferryman, herself, she hoped not to disappoint.

"You have arrived," she declared with welcoming warmth as the two alighted, the ground crunching from the weight of living bodies, "I suppose the trip here didn't trouble you, or anything? So, when is Eiki coming? I haven't told her I was coming by- you must understand, she never prepares for a surprise, especially from my amazing presence~"

Komachi failed to answer. Instead, she shuffled closer to her, an odd sight to be sure, and stopped right in front of her. Was it a hug? Well, the Shinigami would've been pretty happy about getting away from the Emma, right? Moternaster readied for one, just in case.

"Moternaster?" Komachi, in a dulled, pensive tone, addressed. The Chair Devil looked at her, puzzled by the sudden call for attention, before she gave her a cock of the head to continue.

"Sorry about this."

"About what? The boat looks very much fi-"

A loud crash shattered Moternaster's consciousness.

The peak of her head detached itself from the blunt end of the Shinigami's scythe, and her Limpness kissed the floor.

Komachi cursed under her breath over what she had done. She had no choice, but still... Assaulting a Chair Devil usually meant execution, or that was what the old rules said. The much graver Keima, on the other hand, unfazed by the sudden arising of regret from the Shinigami, offered her a detention jar to snap her out of it.

She sputtered at the sight of the foreign object, "W-what's this for?"

"Containing your replacement," he stated, as if it had been but a simple fact all children should know. "That is until we can rid the spirit in the Enma's heart-"

"Don't say that!" the Shinigami protested in a fluster, grabbing the jar off his hands. She fumbled with it for a moment, before all the makings of it began to form sense in her head and she was able to open it. She couldn't muster the sense to point it though, and all she did as she continued her confusion was peer longingly into the bottle, "I-I'm just so confused, right now, okay?"

A firm hand grabbed her wrist. Keima gazed into her own eyes.

"Point it at her."

She couldn't even think, so disconnected by the present that what he had instructed her to do flew over her. Keima had to eventually guide her on the use of the jar, where, once he had positioned her hand properly, the jar sucked the Devil up, shrunk her in size, and dumped her into its hollow stomach. The surreal nature of the exercise further broke her.

"E-eh? When did New Hell make something like this?"

"Komachi," Keima called to her, snapping his fingers together for added effect, "That's not the issue right now. We should focus on the Spirit in-" The glare she gave him stopped him from speaking any further. He, much to his disgruntlement, had to mentally note down the woman's sensitivities at the middle of his 'terrible traits' list.

Fortunate for him, she very quickly shook away the eyeballing threat, and instead walked back to her boat, slumped onto its seat, and began to loudly reason with herself while she rolled the jar around. Well, sure, it wasn't the most fortunate event, but at least she was reflecting.

"How did an Enma like her suddenly foster a Runaway Spirit so suddenly?" she asked herself, "That should be impossible. A Spirit, inside a divine being? Katsuragi!"

"Yes?" he, casual as... well, never, now that she thought about it, answered.

"You have any clue what this means?!"

"That she is our first capture target."

"Yeah, we need to tell her-"

She snapped a look at him, as if what he had just said was unbelievable.

"Wait, what?"

Keima sighed. Did he really have to go through this?

"Capture?" Komachi parroted as the drops of sweat began rolling down her face. "As in: capture the Spirit?"

For a moment, he had wanted to admit to her of his rather precocious methods, seeing as to how it would be best for both parties to be informed of their abilities. It had only struck him, just moments ago, that she did not even know how he went around in his business, and that she could even protest in kind to the idea of using actual romance on the Shinigami's dear Enma. Knowing so little of Komachi's own personality and decision-making made both outcomes equal in chance of happening. Telling her too much would make her distrust him. He would have to prove to her its effectiveness, without preemptively telling her he was going to employ it.

"W-wait a minute. Why did you even tell me to knock her unconscious?"

 _Oi, ask that before you do it!_

He ruffled his hair in frustration, and quickly adjusted his glasses, polishing his image before he spoke, "To rid of a Spirit from someone's heart, my first step is to know that person."

"Eh?" Komachi gawked at the sudden commanding tone in his voice.

"By understanding a person, you understand what they're missing in their hearts. Thus, I must get close to her!" Suddenly, with a burst of movement, he scooped the replacement ferryman's scythe off the ground, and posed-

 _H-heavy!_

He quickly opted to throwing the scythe back on the floor. It landed with an unimpressive flop.

"Let's ignore what I just tried to do."

Komachi wanted to laugh. She, fortunately, did not.

"I will get close to your Enma, Shiki Eiki, by impersonating as your replacement!" With dramatic flair, his pointing finger shot through the air, and laid its line of point at the bottle she still held. "By doing that, I will get closer to her, and once I figure out her problem, I will solve it, closing the gap and letting the Spirit out. All you have to do is lend me your hagoromo's toolset, sail the boat, and capture the Spirit once it's out."

Komachi only stared incredulously back.

"Really?"

Keima blinked at her subdued response.

"It's that easy?"

 _Must keep my methods quiet. Must keep them quiet._

"Y-yes, very easy. That's why I'm the… the best, ahahah~"

"Well, I was panicking fer nothin'!" Komachi scoffed as she hopped back up on to her feet, and, although the ensuing momentum rocked her boat so hard that she had to jump off, she nonetheless continued in her carefree speech, "You're the expert here. Maybe I'll take a few naps while you socialize, or something!"

 _Urgh, you lazy Shinigami. If, during one of my conquests, you fail to show up and subsequently ruin the event, I'll be pinning all of that on you._

"Komachi," the boy began once again, catching the Shinigami trying, again, to get into her boat, "Tell me the fashion choice of ferrymen, their schedules, the breaks they take; everything that'll help me get closer to the Enma."

"Whoa, if I didn't already know it myself, you sound like some lovestruck guy, Katsuragi."

Keima bit his upper lip in sheer disdain.

 _Well, that's because I'm trying to get her to fall for me, you lazy Shinigami...!_

"W-well, that's because, uh, I'm trying to fit in and finish this as fast as I can."

"Ah, talkin' my language~" she remarked, pleased by the new information, before she rested her back on the boat and readied her part of the exchange.

Keima began to think, to formulate, during her pause. Perhaps now he could try and solve the Enma's mysterious ailment that brought such a Spirit into her. First was the question of how:

 _Doesn't an Enma judge the souls of the dead? Why wouldn't she see, or at the least feel, the Runaway Spirit inside her? Could it be that her position only allows her to properly interact with the souls of the dead, and not Runaway Spirits? That would make some bit of sense, but unless there's a thesis paper discussing Hell's interaction with these Spirits, everything isn't clear, yet._

 _Second was what?_

 _Could something in Gensokyo have to do with the gap in her heart? Canon dictates that she lectures people and checks on them to see if they followed her advice- could that be the answer? Maybe it has something to do with work? Is she the 'I'm tired of my job' kind of character?_

 _Third was how… Not the first 'how', but 'how to capture her'._

 _Judging by my preexisting knowledge…_

Keima faltered. Something flashed in his mind.

 _No, wait, what's stopping official Touhou information from being blatantly false? Yukari and Komachi do have some factors in their behavior and powers that may prove otherwise, but those are only two characters. I can't just generalize my findings all willy-nilly like that, or else I might calibrate my first impressions wrongly. I'll just have to ask for more information from_

But then, as he began to reconvene his information bases, she remembered:

"Urgh!"

"What?" Keima exclaimed at the sudden gurgle. "What's wrong!"

"Oh no," the Shinigami staggered up, standing once again on her two feet. Her lips shivered as she continued in her low recital, "Eiki's supposed to come and visit the replacement right now…"

The God of Conquest's jaw unhinged.

" **WHAT**!? How did you forget that?!"

"I didn't think it was important till you mentioned meeting her! We've gotta hide, or, at least, get you looking like a proper… Actually, you look fine in that."

Eh? He looked like a ferryman? Well, then again, he supposed Komachi's own way of dressing wasn't too far out of the orthodox. Nevertheless, Keima watched as his partner panicked in trying to find an appropriate hiding spot for her own self, completely ignoring the very utility that helped to do so.

"Komachi," he muttered, catching her attention and eyes, before stating the obvious: "The hagoromo."

"Oh yeah, it can turn invisible, right?" In an instance, her hurry was dispelled, and she instead put her focus on the spectral cloth of the Runaway Spirit Squad. A second passed of the examination. Then another.

And then another.

A question mark popped off Keima's head.

"How do you use it, though?"

Faith in Hellish-kind never plummeted so far down for Keima.

At least Elsie- or Eri- was competent. Oh God, Komachi was making him _miss_ Eri.

"You…" stammered Keima, a shaking finger pointed at her, "How out of touch can you get?"

"Hey, respect your elders, human. Just show me how you did it."

Keima took a step back as the offered hagoromo, hung limply on her open palm, pushed forward. He sighed in irritation- something that did not escape the Shinigami, who hardened her glare- and reached out to accept the thing and show her how it was done.

Then, the Sanzu leapt.

Keima turned, surprised. That was a new sound. The Sanzu had been rather calm throughout his trip, so the sudden splash had caught him by surprise. Komachi, on the other hand, flashed a paleness that her buddy, unfortunately, did not see.

The river riled. Its waves lapped the shore, when, just before, it had never done so.

For Keima, it looked to have just been the wind. For the once-and-only ferryman of this side of the Sanzu, she saw the subsumed souls cower and bristle. The only things the poor souls of the Sanzu were frightened of were divinity, and Enma.

She was coming, and the river screamed of her approach.

"Katsuragi, hurry up!" Komachi snapped at the man, much to his surprise. Puzzled by her sudden frightened state, he asked her what was wrong. The moment she answered that it was the Enma, though, he completely understood.

 ** _THE FIRST EVENT'S APPROACHING!_**

His hands slammed on her's, taking the hagoromo in the process and eliciting a flinch from her. Clasping both ends of the fabric, he stretched them, just as he had remembered to do at the Ministry- a simple technique for non-Devils someone taught him at one point- and quickly wrapped it around the surprised shinigami's body. The thing snaked around her without so much as a hassle, and, before long, she herself had disappeared from his view, only noticeable from the indents of the soil.

Komachi moved her limbs, and found that, though they were bound, they were not impeded at all. In fact, the fabric was soft to the touch; so soft, in fact, that it felt like it wasn't there in the first place, a natural skin above skin. She looked at herself, and saw the floor, or whatever was behind the body part she was looking at. She couldn't truly believe it, herself. She had seen youkai with the ability to disappear, and had always envied them. Oh, think about it: she could escape the Enma's disturbance of her nap just by doing the same as those Youkai did, and now? Now it was a reality, but instead of making her naps much more peaceful, it was for her buddy to begin the process of… whatever he did that would've nabbed him the spot as the so-called 'best in the Squad'. Oh, she just hoped nothing stupid could come of this, and that he would do it quickly enough for said Enma to end on a safe, uninjured note.

And so, with this newfound transparency, she hid next to the tree. The invisibility was still foreign to her, and she was rather skeptical as to whether or not the little girl who once bossed her around could sense her presence through any other means.

Katsuragi Keima, in his yukata, and bare feet-

Komachi tossed him her shoes. He, with unhealthy levels of fret and displays of hurry, slipped them on.

Katsuragi Keima, in the yukata from home, and Onozuka Komachi's shoes, finally readied himself for the challenge to come. She could not have come any sooner, too, for in the fog of war, a silhouette came into view, pushing past the darkness. The signature , and Keima gulped. A fan of Touhou would have immediately recognized it, and a man of Keima's role would have shuddered at the thoughts of what he had to do to get her to stop holding it.

Because how would you get anyone with that kind of presence to change?

He gulped.

"Annoying that I have to do this... again." There was no way to turn back now, he supposed, and, in the face of those odds, he glowered.

 **The Helpful yet Supreme Lecturing Judge of Paradise and Hell**

 **Shiki Eiki, Yamaxanadu**

 **We Judge by First Capture**


	5. I Crossed the River

Shiki Eiki, the Enma of Gensokyo, bearer of a position close to that of the status of Chair Devil, pursed her lips as the silhouette of her ferryman's replacement came into her view.

The suddenness of Komachi's departure had surely done some number on her. Because of it, she had to take a much unneeded break to assess the new member and see whether or not she could even be prim and proper around them. Ferrymen all have their own work flow, and no Enma could effectively adapt to sudden shifts, like this new member's appointment. She had her gripes about it, moments ago, as she flew here, and that complaint stemmed from the absence of any notice of the matter. Eiki hadn't the slightest clue as to what her old ferryman was given as a task, nor did she know who her replacement even was, and she had those of New Hell to blame, for if those lazing Chair Devils hadn't just slacked off and had given her prior notice or even just a name sometime since last week to just yesterday, she could have at least prepared, or looked at prior records and files of this new replacement's performance, and whether or not it was up to her, or even the bare minimum that was Komachi's, standards.

The very sight of the replacement made her queasy, and she wasn't comfortable with that fact, at all. Was something wrong with her? She hoped not: if this replacement was up to par, then she was going to be swamped, and that was what she was honestly hoping for.

Finally, she emerged from the fog, and looked up at him.

Eiki laid eyes on the replacement, and found herself flashing mild amazement at his appearance. He looked... much simpler than she had expected, donning a simple yukata, vaguely familiar sandals (she supposed those were a ferryman's favorite), and glasses, and he was male, to boot. Where did the joke of New Hell only being populated by females go, that silly description she had thought long and hard as to its origins and authenticity. It musts be some silly ploy of the past that stuck. She sighed to herself over the supposedly fictitious fact. Why they would make such insensitive remarks to the other gender? How rude.

Her feet stopped moving once she got close enough.

Coming back into focus, and with newfound scrutiny in her gaze, she examined the new ferryman from top to bottom, trying hard to pick up something that could be reflective of his person. He was humbly quiet, perhaps waiting for her to speak, and she could feel a hint of nervousness. Was the thought of replacing a literal war hero so daunting, especially in an occupation as simple to follow as this one? Had her old ferryman Komachi looked so feeble in their first meeting? Owing to her memory, the word 'no' staked its claim as the answer to that question.

Then she noticed the lack of horns. A New Devil? She did not remember that generation having such an interest in ferrying the dead... No, that shouldn't be her concerns. Instead, it should have been a plus, if gossip between the older members were to be believed. She remembered the Devils of New Hell to be rather hardworking fellows, or so those who took one as apprentices say; much more loyal than Old Hell citizens, and much less proud. Complete opposite to that lazing, no-good Komachi, she concurred. Very good, but… No, that was a false alarm, there were no 'buts' here.

"Um… Miss Enma?"

The ferryman spoke, his voice nervously impatient, though she supposed for good reason. She had been stalling their eventual conversation for quite a while in her mindful dwelling.

Offering a hand to shake, she greeted in fluent matter-of-facts, "It is a pleasure to work with you, Onozuka's replacement." He answered with a hesitant clasp of her hovering arm. "My name is Shiki Eiki, the Enma in charge of the area whose dead you will be ferrying."

"You…" the ferryman said, tone far too airy for the occasion.

"Me?" she asked in reply, puzzled by the skipping of introductions.

"You're a lot smaller than I thought…"

A nerve popped on Eiki's forehead.

"Ahahah~" The guilty party gave a nervous laugh, regretting his slip of the tongue. He seemed to visibly deflate the further he kept up the quaking chuckle.

Eiki was not the least bit; the slightest; at the barest minimum, impressed. Even Komachi didn't stoop so low in their first meeting! Sure, that statement ignored the aftermath of teasing for teasing's sake, but to have that be so, so early in their cooperation together? That just made her seethe, and when she seethed, the urge to lecture brumed terribly within her.

"Our first meeting," she chided as a frown manifested into her very being, "Even before you've spoken your name, you dare insult me-"

Suddenly, his arm instinctively shot away from his grip.

"Wha-?!"

She gasped as her entire body took one step away from the ferryman. The hand that had gripped onto hers was now palming the dirt.

"MY ENMA!"

 **DOGEZA**?!

And where did the desperation come from!? EH!? ' **MY ENMA** '?! Komachi never-

"I must apologize for my rude comment," the repenting ferryman recited, surprising the Enma even further, "So please forgive me and spare me the moment to allow me to take into heart the terrible mistake I have made!"

"W-what? A-are you declaring repentance, to me?" She, justifiably, stammered out. What a surreal experience, that was! She had never had someone so quickly regret their actions, much less sound so convincing at the same time.

"Yes, my Enma!" the ferryman continued with vehemence in his voice as his repeated smacking of his head began to crater the ground, "So please, I beg you to forgive this underling."

Eiki balked at his insistence, her goodwill fading at the realisation of the situation's circumstances. She… she didn't know what to do in such an instance. Such a thing had never happened before with her subordinates, especially that lazy shinigami. In any everyday scenario, she would have been pretty delighted at the sight, but here? Here was something foreign, _alien_ , even, and it did little to help fill the pits in her stomach.

This was no Komachi. This was no Komachi at all. Whoever he was, she had no words to describe him.

"Em…" His voice snapped her out of her trance, and she looked down to see him still sticking to the dirt. "May I rise?"

Ah, he'd been waiting for her?! What an embarrassing display. Quickly, she refined her posture and recouped her dignity to its former status, before ordering him to stand. "Y-yes, rise. I will look over your remark only for today."

When he stood up, she decided that that was the time to ask him for his name.

"Katsuragi Keima, my Enma."

Guh. She wasn't fond of the 'my Enma' addresses. "Call me Miss Shiki, mister Katsuragi."

"Yes, my Enma-"

She shot him a glance to prove her point.

"Miss Shiki."

Good. If he was to keep it professional, then that method of address was paramount. She could now initiate the second part of what she came here to do, too, so without further ado: "Now that our introductions are complete," she smacked her Rod of Remorse on her hand before she pointed it at the boat, "How about a ride?"

"Eh?" the ferryman answered back in confusion.

"A ride back to Higan. Isn't it tradition for the ferryman to ferry the Enma he serves under as their first passenger?"

Katsuragi looked at her with a puzzled face.

Eiki leered back. Had he not heard of this? Yes, it was not standard regulations, being that it was the way of the older Enmas' traditional, and much more conservative, method of evaluating their ferrymen, but she was sure they still could find it mentioned in their old text, at the very least.

"Well?" The Enma inquired dryly over his lost comprehension, eliciting a moment of panic from him.

"Yes, M-Miss Shiki!"

With a huffing sigh, she strode to, and boarded the boat meant for those she judged. Katsuragi boarded after, standing in a rather unbalanced stance behind her- she could tell, for even when he had boarded, it seemed that his footing had made the boat rock a second time straight after. Inexperienced, as well? Komachi would never make this vessel rock as hard as he did. She hoped her journey was, at least, bearable.

"W-we're setting s-sail!" The stuttering ferryman stammered, before he pushed them off the embankment, and let the current of the Sanzu take them forward.

And very, very slowly.

Eiki sighed once again.

This was going to take a while, huh?

Unfortunate for Eiki, that she had guessed correctly. It **was** going to be an exceptionally long ride. The invisible Komachi made sure of it.

O - O - O - O

Keima hardened his glare on the back of the little Enma's head, readying the blade that was his tongue. He could've pounced and began their war of conversation right there and then, when the banks were starting to stray from the horizon and the vast ocean of the Sandy began to stretch. He could have started playing dice with her, could have began his conquest for the fabled checkmate. He could have done those things, but how did he forget? The damn Shinigami was right beside him, and by Jove, she was keen on butting in.

"So you find out what's wrong with her?"

Keima ground his teeth at her inclusion in the mix. Why was the damn Shinigami talking to him **right now**? "Quiet! I'm trying to figure it out- Don't touch me!"

"Hey, I'm the one trying to steer a boat here! 'Sides, you really don't want these next to you~?"

"Just shut up and let me do the talki-"

A backwards glance brought the buddy and invisible Devil Partner to a complete standstill. When their silence and the steering-scythe pled no contest, Eiki turned away.

Keima exhaled in relief. Komachi made sure to zip her mouth and keep the boat steady onward.

There was much to be said about his own performance moments before, during the period of their 'first impressions'. In his usual conquests, he would have employed something rather brazen and preposterous as the basis of their first meeting, if only to plant the seeds of romance further down the line.

 _The bigger the meeting event is, the thicker the trunk of the hypothetical flower of galge game romance._

 _Still, I have to take into account the attributes of more serious and dedicated character like Eiki._

 _Let's say her tolerance is a flower pot, and the meeting is the seed. If her tolerance level is too small, and the first meeting is too flashy for her to even comprehend or take well enough to, then the encounters in the long run will make that all-too-big seed grow too large for her to handle. If her kind of character breaks, then she'll see the chance of romance to be far too troublesome, and the entire route either resets back to square one… or is forever broken._

Well, 'forever broken' in gameplay standards. He supposed real, 3D girls- even those based on in-game characters- could change. But that wasn't an option, here: to try the capture again was far too risky and time-consuming for him, and so he opted for a more tamer approach.

 _Play it straight, but make yourself respect her to such a degree that she can't help but remember your respect and respect you back! Besides, this would be juxtaposed by that lazy Shinigami's own behavior with Shiki, so my presence will be much stronger in her mind! Knowing the kind of serious character she is, she'll be much more tolerant of a guy who looks up to her!_

Well, that was what was supposed to happen, at first, if not for the fact that her actual tininess hadn't caused him to slip.

He swore it was an accident! His prior understanding of her size made him recall her to be close to the same height as the damn Shinigami, in canon- or, knowing how tall she was, at least the same height as himself- but to think, to **think** , that the fandom was correct, and that his preconceive notions were wrong, now that surprised him silly. Not to mention it put a wrench in everything: if he really was going to capture the girls in Gensokyo, which would he even trust: canon, or fan interpretations?

In any case, his slipup was, without a doubt, an unacceptable mistake on his part. Had he lost a bit of his touch with capturing girls? Well, he supposed his later acting had proven that he hadn't, and that he was at least adapting to the situation at hand. His sudden begging had come as a last-minute improvisation, but it seemed to have done the trick. She was clearly shaken by the display, perhaps because no one else, especially her other subordinate- who really should be giving him some more space right about now! - had ever been so radical about their fears of punishment.

That was the straw that brought him to his game plan: be different from Komachi, and be more like Shiki. Not only would it make a much more lasting impression, but she would be much more comfortable confiding information with him. This first event, which unintentionally spiraled to a long, but opportunity-filled boat ride, was going to be a smashing success.

"My Enma-" he started to speak, only to stop when the slip registered in his mind.

"Miss Shiki." She answered back in demand.

"My apologies," play it straight, come on, "But I seem to have conditioned myself to say that, a lot."

Shiki, with her back turned to him, scoffed. "The context of it is far too romantic for me."

"But I would like to be closer to the individual I look up to and admire-"

A knock on wood. Eiki withdrew her Rod from the side of the boat, and, in a sudden turn of moods, uttered, coldly, to him, "You are only here as replacement. Once Komachi is finished with whatever the Chair Devils of New Hell have sent her off to, you will return to your old post, so don't think you'll be a permanent resident, much less someone who has the privilege of saying 'My Enma'."

 _Hmm?_

 _What was that?_

A brief glimpse at something. No, that was not substantial enough. He had to push on.

"Miss Shiki," he began once again, earning a slight tilt of her head towards him, "May I ask, how are the judgings for today."

"It went well," she replied, a reminiscing slowness in her voice, "Komachi was working rather diligently, today- that was, until she had to leave."

"Ooh, I'm gonna get a bonus when I get back~?"

"Shut up."

Once the Shinigami finished her grumbling, he began to discuss amongst his brain cells.

Well, it feels like her job isn't the issue. Maybe…

"Do you… want me to match her pace, Miss Shiki?"

"Pfft," the Enma snickered, "I want you to work harder. Honest work, Katsuragi, not like that lazy bum on all her other days."

Komachi pouted.

"Maybe then I can show Komachi what a 'good' example of a ferryman is- she might even shape up and start working harder for her pay."

 _Okay, that at least tells me she's still okay with her job. Maybe the gap's something to do with her coworkers?_

"How's Enma duty? You, uh, ever talk to the other-"

A clap, from the Rod and free hand. Keima shook at the reverberation. The scythe shuddered, a sign that the Shinigami herself was jumping.

"You do know that ferrymen do not ask questions about their passengers, yes? Don't tell me that you're trying to be the second Komachi, huh?"

The Shinigami in question groaned with annoyance, but, having let it slip from her invisible esophagus, the Enma thought Keima was the one making the noise, and she turned around to knock the man in the head.

"OW! M-my apologies, my- Miss Shiki, but please, I want you to answer the question!"

"Throw that silly false personality and attitude of yours away, Katsuragi!" the Enma's voice rose in scolding, "Do you wish for me to write to your superiors of your conduct? There will be no more discussions; my patience with you has depleted, pray it does not go any lower."

He grimaced. Shiki was starting to control the flow and paths of the flag, and he couldn't let that happen. He had to change that. There was one more thing he had to check to make sure, and he was going to pull the card straight out of his throat, right now. If it wasn't this, then it was trouble in the Ministry. If it was, though, then that made everything much, much easier in the long run.

"I'm sorry, Miss Shiki…" he muttered under hollow breath, body still arched from the impact of the punishment she had given him. The Enma, having just returned to her spot, gave a little 'hmm?' in response, and had planned to turn around and lecture him, this time properly, about ferrymen etiquette.

He genuflected, letting one hand go from the scythe, and then spoke faster than she could.

"But my admiration for you knows no bounds!"

The boat bobbed.

"Wait, wha-!?" Eiki stammered as she got up to her feet from the shock of the act. Keima, adamantly in his genuflecting, yelled to her:

"Please, my Enma, trust me like you would trust the Shinigami who once sailed these waters! I want to equal- no, surpass her! I want to call you by your first name, just like how you say hers, and I want to make a lasting work relationship with you, my Enma! Please, grant me that honor!"

Komachi's eyes widened, and a hand unraveled from the scythe's handle just so it could point at its owner. What was he trying to do, talking about her? How was this supposed to let him understand Eiki's problems? Wasn't he making them bigger by challenging her and even going so far as to go against what she ordered him not to do?! Even she wouldn't go THAT far in front of her! Oh, Komachi wanted sorely to come out of her invisibility to slap him in the face and straighten that attitude of his! But then the scythe handle shook. Keima's grip on it had tightened, like it were a signal to her. To do what, exactly, she had to guess it was to stop the boat, or at least keep it at a steady course, because he, in technicality, wasn't piloting anymore, in that stance.

Enma Shiki Eiki, on the other hand, started to burn.

"You…" her grip on the Rod, which had rose to her chest, trembled as her anger blew over.

"My Enma-"

"How DARE you not know your place!" Keima flinched at her roar, "You are replacing Komachi until she returns, nothing else, so stop it with those **lofty** dreams!"

A loud crack flashed through the air. If Eiki's Rod of Remorse were her hand, then she would have bruised herself hitting the side of the boat. "As your superior, I order you to stop addressing me as 'my Enma', quell your fantasy of me, and follow the rules and tenants of the Sanzu River Crossing until Onozuka Komachi returns! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

"YES, I UNDERSTAND!" he exclaimed with as much energy as the Enma, much to said Enma's surprise. "BUT I MUST STRESS THAT MY LOVE FOR YOUR WORK IS LEAPS AND BOUNDS AHEAD OF ANYONE ELSES!"

Silence wracked the boat.

Shiki huffed, the scowl on her face dripping with disdain.

Komachi cowered at the sight. Eiki never blossomed with this much rage at her before, and with that much burning fire in her words.

And her, Keima laid unwavering in his genuflection.

The Shinigami began to panic. Wasn't this the opposite of socializing! Oh my God, she should have done the slap on him! Why did she hesitate!? This idiot was going to detriment everything! No, she had to take off her hagoromo, and tell the Enma everything. She reached for the-

And then the Titanic beached.

"Wha-?"

"UWAAH!?"

The voyage hit Higan.

O - O - O - O

Komachi nearly didn't have time to catch her own self from falling. The impact knocked all the air out of her lungs, and she dropped her scythe in response.

Shiki stumbled backward, herself surprised by the sudden arrival, and before she could tip off the boat, she caught herself on the bow's groove, letting go of her Rod so it could land inside the boat. That was too close, she concluded, relieved that further injury didn't-

Unfortunately for her, Keima didn't have the luxury. Like a bullet, he launched forward, head-first, into the Enma's stomach, and they, both, body to body, landed on the shore. But in that short period of time, his arms had wrapped around her rather small body, and it became his yukata's sleeves that touched the flowers and skidded instead of her back. The Shinigami still veiled in the invisible fabric gasped, and began to fret over whether or not she should appear and help, or keep idling by the side.

Once the accident cleared, though, and their senses began to stabilize, Shiki opened her eyes to find her new ferryman enveloping her. Blooming red from the embarrassment, she tossed and turned in his grip, much to his annoyance, yelling, "Get off of me, you uncouth sinner!"

But then a palm slammed the flowers to her side. She was rendered stunning her, and then the shadow looming over her made her blood chill.

Keima pushed himself up, and two pairs of eyes locked together in a wordless stare.

Eiki felt herself shrink back.

Her new ferryman stayed where he was.

"I get it now…" he muttered under his breath, audible enough for only her to hear.

Everything finally fell into place for the God of Conquest.

"Get OFF!"

But he couldn't explain his finished puzzle, for in the moments of his contemplation, an elbow crashed into his chin, flipping him backward and nearer to the shoreline. Eiki scampered to her feet, and… well, she didn't know what to do other than take the discarded hat nearby, and so she stood there, limbs open in a wide stance ready to hurry away if he thought to do something weird like that again. She had the urge to berate him over his stupid mistake of taking his attention off of what was in front of him, but the daze from the crash and his subsequent headbutting had jumbled her thoughts, and she couldn't even form coherent sentences over that issue, anymore. The better option would have been to hit him to nail in the lesson, but… No, she couldn't. She had to keep her composure in check, now, no matter how many times it had been shattered. She had never hit Komachi, or even had that feeling of wanting to pelt her to the dust, but this man, this pretentious…

What was she thinking?

Eiki shook her head to rid of the thoughts clouding her judgement. Without a second to reconsider, and pretending she was oblivious to Keima's gaze of amazement, she straightened herself, as if nothing had happened at all, and turned around, cleansing herself from the mess.

"Apologies," she uttered, her voice losing its shakiness and temper, as she took her steps through Higan, "But I must be off. I will write a preemptive report to your superiors. I also expect your first soul successfully ferried within the next thirty minutes."

She turned and walked away, but, in a sudden turn, a few seconds of walking in the silence later, she finally realized why her hand was trying to hold emptiness. She had forgotten her Rod of Remorse. That almost made her curse, and she turned around to-

"Hey!"

Keima's voice called to her, just moments after she had reached the top of the hill facing the bank they crashed upon. She drew a grave frown on her face at the prospects and turned around, hoping to repulse him. Much to her surprise, the man was already rushing up the hill and towards her, her Rod of Remorse on one hand. The boat stared at the bottom, rocking gently in its waves as the Sanzu calmed from her distancing proximity. Her eyes widened. Even after all that, he still had the decency to pass her belongings to her.

Regrettably, a good trait to have.

Katsuragi panted, egregiously tired from the climb. She didn't question his weakness, however, for all she wanted right now was her tool. He approached. She did as well.

"I suppose," she said with firm countenance, a palm opened for him, "Your natural kindness and... respect for your peers... is to be commended. That girl Komachi would slack off even in giving my Rod back."

Keima listened.

"The lazing fool, I wonder when she'll even finish her task. Knowing her, I would like to think never. Now that would be too much… for you, yes? Please, tend to her boat well. She never does that- heck, she once sailed it on solid ground. If you find any marks on the boat, please report to me: I will personally admonish her once she returns."

The end of the Rod landed on her hand. She wrapped her fingers round her possession, and pulled away.

Keima did not let go.

"You miss Onozuka, don't you?"

Komachi, having traveled up the hill to join him, slipped and rolled into the water.

The Enma froze.

Keima noticed the rod shake in her grasp.

Eiki didn't know why, but her mouth began to move; words tumbled out of her throat.

"M-me… 'Miss…' Komachi?" she parroted, her teeth clenching, face red as burning coal.

Her hat, hung on her ear all this time, finally slid off from the side of her head.

"Are you… deranged or something? What… what makes you come to such an a-absurd conclusion?"

Keima stared deep. She shuddered at the stone wall in front of her. And then, when she felt most aggravated by his brazen stand, he whispered, low, with so little energy that his breath felt cold.

"You kept mentioning her name in everything."

All color drained from Eiki's face.

Keima carefully stepped back as her countenance flopped like limp fish, gawking mouth melting into a speechless hole the result of meticulous handiwork by the man in front of her. A suspicion popped into his face as he turned away to ponder the legitimacy of his claims, but that was not to last. The very next moment found him sprawled on the floor. The Enma had swung at him, with such velocity that even the flowers around them bent from the force. He just barely grazed the thing as he jettisoned.

But now the table had turned. And for Katsuragi Keima, he hadn't wanted it this quickly.

 _Oh, shit, shit, shit!_

He furiously pushed himself back as the Enma's towering figure crackled with the brume of smoke.

"M-my Enma, please, forgive and for-"

"DON'T."

 _Oh._

"CALL."

 _No._

"ME."

Keima braced for impact.

"' **MY ENMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA** '!!!!"

The Rod of Remorse flashed a most terrifying infinity.

 _Maybe I should've expected development to go like thi-!_

The Enma swung down.

Komachi dredged herself miserably from the water in the backdrop of screams, shrieks and screeches.


	6. I Remember, and it Hurts

_Back with another chapter, and on Valentines Day! Well, it's Valentines where I am, and again I'm outta luck. In any case, I hope you enjoy this week's new chapter. Thanks to all those who've reviewed, favourited and followed this story, I'm really grateful for that._

O - O - O - O

"She…"

Komachi, sat beside the beached Titanic with her scythe looming beside her, let the silence drag on in her shocked wake. Keima, waiting patiently for her diatribe to finish, laid his bumpy, bruise-ridden face and, in extension, his entire body, to flat rest on the floor in front of her, eyes constantly staring from beyond the shattered glasses, beckoning her to continue. Fortunate for him, she braved the thoughts in her head.

"She misses me?"

"Yes…" the carcass confirmed, "It was pretty obvious, at the end."

"What does her missing me have to do with the Runaway Spirit?"

"OI!" Keima yelled at her through his puffy lips, garnering a rather begrudged face from the Shinigami, "Don't you understand that because of your absence she has a gap in her heart!?"

It took a while for Komachi to fully absorb the information, but once she did, she shot to her feet and stammered, "W-wait, so how are we gonna fix that!? No, wait, when did she like me that much? Why does she…? Huh?"

Seeing her on her two feet prompted him to do so as well. As she cried her worries to him, flailing around and swinging her scythe dangerously around her, he pushed his corpse-like body back up and patted the dust off his beaten yukata. He would have to have that hagoromo fix his glasses later, but for now, as he delved into his thoughts for a solution, he began to fit the pieces together.

 _So this is either a 'replacing a friend' or a 'replacing a lost crush' route with a character who may be ageless, thus disregarding the age gap rules._

He had to pause for a moment when the ache of his bruises spiked in pain, from just barely to unbearable.

 _Ugh, are all the Touhou girls this strong?_

 _In any case, the first event at least created big enough an impression for her to be thinking of me, for a while. Hate can still turn to love. Have to consider the timing, too, and a reason for me to come and see her. Now, for a route like this, I have to-_

"Hey, Katsuragi!" the shinigami called to him, breaking his train of thought. He looked towards her, but before he could respond to her addressal, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, much to his horror. She reared down to say, "What's your plan? You're the expert, so I'm waiting on you."

Okay, he knew he at least had some pretense of tolerance to a woman's touch, but she was pressing him into her breast a bit too much, wasn't she? With a rebellious push and a disgruntled grunt, he distanced himself from the girl. Ignoring her impatient glance, he pointed down to the sand of Higan's shore, squatted down- coaxing her to do the same in the process- and began drawing a crude mindmap of his plans.

"Look, we can't just fix her problem by letting you stay."

A crude line art of a skull and a stick (Komachi guessed correctly that it was her and the Enma, respectively) found itself on the sand. "Knowing her, she would be extremely suspicious of your sudden return, and I expect that any excuse you'd give her wouldn't work. So no, that's out of the window."

Criss-cross, and that picture was gone.

"But… if I were to do my job extremely well…"

Glasses and a boat.

"I could get closer to her and maybe change her way of thinking."

An arrow pointing to a newly drawn tower. Komachi failed to opine anything in the first few moments after he'd finished his artistic rendering, but, once she did, he honestly wished he'd hoped she'd shut up.

"Your drawings… suck."

"Shut up and focus on the bigger picture," he snapped in retaliation.

Sighing, the Shinigami looked through his illustrations, and remarked rather unsurely, "That's a bit too simple, isn't it?"

"Hey, I only had so little time to think up this, okay? In any case, I thought you wanted it simple."

"Well, this plan's just bare-bones…"

 _It is the most barebone summary I can give to you. It's going to take a lot more than that, though, and a lot of encounters before someone as stubborn as Eiki will let me convince her to stop grabbing on whatever's making her miss you._

"Still, 'getting closer to her'? You sound like you're trying to make her your girlfriend, or something~"

It was all in good laughs, but the boy could only look at her with utter shock at her amazing guessing game.

"W-wait, what're you-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," the Shinigami chuckled, patting his bruised back, "Still, if your plan was to actually do that, then I'd have you tossed into the river, y'know?"

 _No, I don't know…_

Keima deadpanned.

Ah, so it **was** a good idea not to tell her…

"Pfft-! What's with the face, buddy!?"

He stared unimpressed as she continued her mocking cackle.

 _So obnoxious._

The Sanzu's breeze, though, caressed his cheeks for a short and sudden moment, and he turned, as if beckoned by the hands of the ethereal sylph of the wind, to look at the hills of Higan, where the Enma had marched through.

He shuddered at the sight.

He would have to stay in Hell, for a while, he thought. But the dice had been rolled, and he was stuck in his move. He could only lower his gaze at the expanse stretching in front of him till all could see a certain sorrow in his face.

What lied in front of him was the perfect place for a confession, appropriate for any game, where the flowers blooming made for great wallpapers and metaphorical significance. He had never seen it in-game before, and even though it was his second time actually seeing it- the first time being their first arrival- it was nevertheless still a sight that took his breath away. A land of the pure. Pure love.

Yes, a great place to end a route, quick and clean.

"Komachi."

"Hmm, yeah?" The Shinigami now joined him in reveling at the sight, her obliviousness to his actual plans making her docile and lax.

Well, she wasn't going to be that way anytime soon.

"We're picking up our first dead person."

O - O - O - O

She huffed, and she puffed, and Shiki blew the strand of her hair dangling in front of her face away. Such little things were inconveniences, at their worst, but inconveniences, like the water from a can, have the ability to grow great trees that would sap the energy of the surrounding away and obscure the sun from the new buds. Yamaxanadu would not have that distract her from her work.

Quickly, she unfolded a neat scroll in front of her on her equally neat desk, which she meticulously kept as tidy as the entire room, and popped the cap off her inkwell. That Katsuragi Keima fellow had been a troubling handful, thinking he was so much better than her, and thinking he could decode whatever was troubling the Enma who, herself, had no clue as to what ailed her. His arrogance did not need to plead forgiveness from her in this report: Eiki never handed that out to those prideful sinners, for repentance, to them, is just a simple tollbooth stopping their rickety, yet lavishly accessorized and far too overvalued rickshaw, from continuing on its route. Would this Katsuragi be any different?

'Dear…'

No, that sounded far too strange.

'I am writing this to…'

Hmm? Why weren't the words coming out of her head.

'Yours truly, Shiki…'

Oi, this was still the first paragraph, right?

Eiki sighed frustration out of her system. She had to write this scroll of complaint quickly, before he could build up the strength to ferry in the first of today's souls to be judged by her. There was no telling what he'd quip about her pace if he walked through that door with her still stuck in the first words. For some reason, she was having trouble in how to start the thing, which was a surprise in and of itself. So many letters penned, and this... this writer's block was stopping her so completely? Maybe she needed more tea.

Then, as if shifting gears without her notice, the moment she glanced at her schedule for the day she began to fret over her break hours and where she should go. And then she wondered as to why she forgot the complaint letter in the first place. Then she fretted about reports, then for some reason geographical charts she'd kept of the Sanzu, then on whether or not the tenders of the scythe garden outside the Ministry were- then whether or not the other Enma were-

The sight of her chart-filled table snapped her out of her trance.

"When did I…?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, she'd mustered the energy to dredge every document out of her shelves, scattering them just so she could, in theory, see each one at once. But this was too much! This clutter was not something she, or any sane person, should be dabbling with. Something was wrong with her: she was too disorganized, too lost, floundering. Grimacing, she decided, resolutely, to have some tea to soothe her nerves- that was, if she could find it in all this… oh, there it was. What could have made her so jumpy, anyway? Was it Katsuragi, and what he had done to her? That confrontation on the boat, where her temper flared for some reason she herself thought far too small to even spare the effort? Could it have been about…?

No, no, that wasn't it. Surely not.

But something was wrong, and it all started when she left for her job, just an hour or so prior. Eiki grimaced as she remembered the conniptions and trepidations she swam through before she had the willpower to leave and assess the new ferryman. It was terrible for her to be so dark and damp with these foreign emotions that stemmed and streamed out from absolutely nowhere in particular. The worst of it hadn't even come from the initial flow: she had to be in good health if she were to continue judging as Enma of Gensokyo, and the fear that that aspect of her was slipping toiled then and now, close behind.

In any case, her cup had gone devoid of the substance. Whether or not it actually worked in the biological sense wasn't the concern here. She had confidence in her recovery, and so, taking that confidence further, she placed her hat on the table in preparation for a quick stretch. Besides, no one enters an Enma's office without a knock, and so she began a simple routine for herself.

Ah, bliss. She could hear her tired joints pop, the delightful noise causing her to smile. Her body felt much more alive, now, especially since she had used so much of its energy beating that ferryman replacement. She still expected at least acceptable levels of etiquette from him, and disappointment would be swiftly dealt with until she could return to her post.

She.

 _You miss Onozuka, don't you?_

Eiki's entire body shook.

She lurched forward, burying her hands on to the paperwork strewn on her table. Her stomach convulsed, and, when it was too much, she fell and crawled to the side of the table, where she had kept her bin, and heaved. The smell of tea and stomach acid made her sicker, till she paled and then finally shivered.

This... this was wrong. She was wrong.

What terrifies an Enma is but a nightmare to all else.

Something was tugging at her chest. She could feel it. How it strained her veins. How it made it hurt to reminisce, to imagine. Why? Where did this come from? All this, she asked in her mind, before her oesophagus sputtered as the pain welled and throbbed.

An Enma could not stop in their occupation. There were only breaks, no sick leaves. What would happen to her if…?

Stop the thought. She had to stay calm. Stay calm. Assess the situation. What of her future endeavors? Stay calm… but she couldn't even muster the strength to stand. Her labored breathing turned into a high-pitched wheezing as her chest flared and constricted unbearable, till she had to haphazardly tear off her vest.

An Enma lives to watch others struggle their way to the stand, to be beset by the terrors of helplessness and to be lifted from, or plunged into it. Yet here she was, in the irony of it all, not even able to rise to her feet in her pittance. Useless, without a support to prop her in physical and mental avenues. The Rod of Remorse that she had left on the table seemed so far, now.

 _Why does she give you purpose?_

Eiki snapped awake from her waning consciousness. She… she heard something. Something… spoke to her. What? What was it? Where? Was she hallucinating as well? The question, it…

The knock on the door dragged her consciousness out from the surreal. She snapped her waning gaze towards it.

"Hello? Miss Shiki?"

Eiki wanted to explode.

 **Katsuragi**?!

The…! That fool, what was he doing here!? No, he couldn't see her like this-

"I know I shouldn't be here, but after reflecting on my past misconduct, I thought I could redeem myself by personally passing you the message that my first ferried soul is ready to be judged."

Eiki's panting took over the room.

She grimaced from both the pain and him.

Having to come check on her, all by his own volition. Admirable behavior… coming from a fool with no respect for orders and a love for the romanticized.

"Miss Shiki?" The knocks resounded once more, "Are you in?"

Eiki kept silent. She hoped it would deter-

He opened the door, anyways.

 **KATSURAGI**!

Trashing away thousands of years of rules?! Seriously?! No one enters an Enma's office without the explicit permission from the Enma inside! This was blasphemous, a horrendous overstepping of boundaries, a... a...!

Katsuragi emerged into an empty room, and, upon noticing her absence, he muttered a "Huh?".

Before she knew it, however, her body had pivoted forward, hiding itself behind the desk. How she came to muster that strength, she had no time to understand, but the pain was ratcheting, and her ferryman was in her office. The only solution that could arise in her head was for her to wait, quietly and in hiding from him.

His footsteps began, and she could feel the vibration through the floor, each knock in tandem with her aching heartbeat.

 _Don't come any closer._

She steeled herself for the worst.

By the fifth step, his shadow arched and peeked from the table's own blanket of darkness. She could hear him breath. Had he… had he heard her's? She tried stifling her erratic wheezes, but to no avail. Her lungs were far out of reach for her to control, and every long, quiet breath she took hurt. Only short bursts, equal to that of hyperventilation could keep her functioning.

"Hmm," the man's puzzled moan entered her ears, before he said to no one in particular, "Looks like she isn't here. Maybe I should go back to the boat."

Yes, just what she had wanted him to do.

Still, respite did not come, for when the door closed, she struggled up to her unstable feet, her own panting the loudest it could be after having its limiting shackles leave. She had a judging, and she could not be late. But how was she going to judge in this feeble state? She couldn't think straight, her grip shook, her voice felt like it would have sounded like a deflating water balloon, and she didn't have the energy for anything save for standing, and even then a crutch felt necessary.

But, ever the responsible, earnest worker she was, she could not leave that soul unattended. Her hand searched for her Rod of Remorse through the disorder. Her mirror, where was her Cleansed Crystal Mirror, as well? No, she must have left it at the courtroom. Yes, now that she thought about it, she had. She had always left it there when the judging grew plentiful, and yesterday was… Was it yesterday?

Her transient belligerence snapped when her hands felt the familiar stick. She sighed in relief, and then ripped it from all the papers, before pushing herself off to stumble towards the door. She fumbled with the knob, and opened the door.

But then her foot slipped.

Eiki lost all breath.

She had, without even having the time to comprehend what she had just unleashed, used too much energy forcing it open, and she felt the full weight of her momentum force her forward into a fall.

And the moment someone saw her fall was the moment she would crumble.

Blood curdled at the harrowing thought. The wind around her slashed through her without remorse. Gravity opened its deathly maw, and the ground never looked so terrifying.

Then she felt it, the collision, the step that was elevated in just the way for her stomach to touch down upon!

W-was someone here to see it?

Was there a pair of eyes looming over the broken thing that was her own body on the floor?

 _No, don't look at me!_

She was ruined, wasn't she? The tears building up in her eyes was her body being sure of it. She wanted to slam the wooden boarding, to break her mantras so she could curse so loudly into the air that the entire Ministry would have heard it reverberate through the walls to whatever God of Diseases could hear her. She had no energy for all but one hit, though, but that did not stop her rage wanting to manifest. And so she swung at the floor.

Eiki's fist impacted cotton fabric.

"Whoa!"

Something- no, someone- exclaimed. She blinked, and finally opened the eyes she had strained close all this time, only to find herself hovering inches from the floor, and rising up.

And then she finally realized who had saved her from the fall.

Eiki's eyes met Katsuragi's.

O - O - O - O

The boat ride hadn't been that long, really.

In all honesty, Keima should have had doubts about this plan, in the first place. At first, everything made sense: first, he had to ferry an actual dead person's soul- no matter the morbid images it entailed- and, with that as an excuse, he would craft an encounter with the Enma that could further strengthen his presence within her. The problem was the dead person. Komachi had, rather late into their voyage back to where she usually docked, explained that the chances of coming upon them was admittedly rare, owing to the fact that not everyday someone died in Gensokyo, especially since the population consisted of ever-reviving fairies, vast numbers of long-life youkai, and a handful of humans, all blessed with protection by whatever God or Goddess they chose to associate themselves with.

That piece of information was not good news. It came down so hard on him that the Shinigami had to make herself courteous enough as to let him meditate over the issue. It would have meant that the encounter would be stalled, or that it may never even happen for a couple of days, if her longer periods of pause were to be believed. And he had all of it planned out, as well. The 'quickfire second encounter after the first' would have made great strides, as well, especially if Eiki still had lingering anger towards him. As a capture consisting of the 'boss and subordinate' formula, continuous exposure and interaction was necessary, but with what Komachi had divulged to him, and the dangers of meeting Eiki without sufficient reason dawning dangerously behind him, no other solution was looking viable.

His brazen first encounter would have become a total backfire approach, if not for the fact that someone HAD coincidentally died. That old man had been waiting at the bank, waving at the two gobsmacked individuals as the boat drew near.

So, with that lucky coincidence out of the way, he, with guidance from Komachi, did all the procedures to a T, and had even guided the dead old man to the Ministry for his judging, just in case she asked him for feedback on her new ferryman. Komachi was supposed to keep herself invisible, whispering to him directions and other instructions- and occasionally an unwanted sweet nothing- as he left the soul at the gate of her courtroom and searched for her office once again. He would accompany Eiki- no, Miss Shiki- as she left for her vocation, and he would initiate further conversation to at least get closer to her and try to understand her affections for the Shinigami.

Once again, though, something had stopped his plan from going the way he intended.

Because he didn't see her in her office.

But it also was not long for him to realize that she hadn't actually left.

Strewn papers on the table were the first hint. Her meticulous obsession over righteousness would have also translated to orderliness, especially since someone would have casted her as lazy with a tabletop looking like that. The weird acidic tang in the air was the second: weeks of eating the terrible hellish cuisine his sister Eri had made him acquainted to the scent of vomit. Whether or not vomit smelled different from person-to-person was a different matter, altogether, but a glimpse into the bin, the object most would opt to puke into, had given him another tangible clue. Third was her vest on the floor. He didn't even know that part of her was even a vest, but there it was, laying on the ground beside that faithful bin, in all its blue and gold-emblazoned glory.

Even worse, the Rod of Remorse was laying there, rather openly below one layer of paper. Wasn't it canonical that she would carry the thing everywhere?

And, lastly, he could hear her breathing. Short spurts of breath beneath the table. It sounded like she was struggling to do so. It was only natural for him to fit in the pieces: the Runaway Spirit within her was starting to act up, and she didn't want anyone seeing her, right now. How that reflected her missing of Komachi, he didn't really understand, but the revelation nonetheless made him think.

 _A gap in a girl's heart, if I remember this right, usually stems from some conflict within them. Sickness can also create holes for Runaway Spirits to enter…_

Was this Spirit trying to make the gap in Eiki's heart larger? Was that its goal? He couldn't really remember a Spirit even being that smart in the infliction of ailments on its host, but if that were the case...

Keima tightened his glare. The stakes were growing ever higher, and all he could do now to help her was to quicken the capture and rid her heart of that thing haunting her.

And so, he went out, and waited. Komachi, having stayed outside, gave a confused glance at him, and asked where she was. He didn't answer. The silence was the lure to draw Eiki out of hiding.

And, sure enough, she came out of her abode. What he hadn't predicted, though, was how weak she actually was, and before he had the chance to say his merry hi that would've transitioned to a 'oh no, you're sick? Let me help you', he had to erase all that away and shoot a bracing hand forward to catch her in her fall.

The problem was that Komachi caught her first.

NONONONONO!!!

Quickly he pushed her aside and slipped his arms into where Eiki had landed on hers. Keima shot the Shinigami beside him a frothing glower, but she was still invisible, so he had no idea whether or not he had actually met her own gaze.

"You could've detrimented this entire operation, you stupid Shinigami!" he rage-whispered to her. She retorted back with the same level of volume:

"What, and let Eiki hurt herself? You crazy?! Besides, what's wrong with her?"

He frowned, but, as a whole, was unfazed by the sudden event. Now with this, he would paint himself as the savior of her fall, and, looking at how she weak the Spirit had made her, all this would make the upcoming capture much, much easier.

And then her balled fist hit his leg. He, appropriately, donned a surprised expression and cried, "Whoa," at her aggression. That was enough for her to open her eyes and realize her circumstances.

Not surprisingly, Eiki pulled back, flustered by his presence, and planting herself near the wall.

"Miss Shiki, are you-"

He paused. That wasn't the look of a sick person. Well, game-wise, that is. And in that vein, it looked more like fear, a mouse in the corner, having realized something far too horrible for its aggressor to comprehend or ever share.

The shaking Enma finally threw him a question, concentrated terror spilling from her voice, "W-why're you still here!?"

Put on the act.

"W-well, I was waiting for you to come back, so I could tell you-"

"Go away," she spat before he could finish, her panting growing heavy, and back sliding down the wall as she continued, "Go back to your post, Katsuragi. If you were… Right now, I wouldn't hesitate to lecture you, even if what you're saying is true, and that a soul is waiting to be judged." His worried stare, the concerns he had for her, only added fuel to Eiki's thunderous complaints. "Kindness is one thing, but to clearly disobey guidelines for your own selfish needs? Katsuragi, I'm not joking around here: I will not hesitate to pen your superiors a complaint that'll make you liable for investigation from New Hell's Ethics Committee!"

Her throat stopped before the next sentence could begin. Keima bent his lips to a frown at her late realization. During her rant, she had been sliding down the wall, her own legs failing to keep her in place, and now? Now she had landed on the floor, body numb from the exhaustion. A cold shiver began to run down her spine.

The little Enma looked minuscule compared the ferryman. No one else was around; there was no noise that could've ensured otherwise. And she was too weak to use her danmaku. She couldn't even push down her skirt. The white shirt beneath her vest was drenched with sweat too.

No.

C-could he be vengeful of what she had done? Had he visited her in this time of quiet, where no one passed by her floor, to… to...

His frown did not leave, much to her horror, and then, like a predator of the sky, he lurched down to grab her by the arm.

"No, wait-!" She stopped speaking, for her teeth clapped together as he pulled her up.

And then her entire body landed on his.

Komachi burst into red blushes and rattled sweat.

Eiki smelled Higan in his fabric.

WAIT, WHAT'S HE TRYING TO-?!

She readied to lash out. Her body was not to be molested by some lowly ferryman! Survival instincts spun, and she-

"Miss Shiki?"

Eiki paused her thoughts of struggling. His voice was seamless, serene in the air. Not a sound a human, or a Devil who'd been her friend for a thousand years could make in their calls.

God's glasses gleamed.

"New Hell doesn't 'pen' things anymore."

The Enma's eyes widened.

Even in a time like this, he was joking with her.

Why?

To get her nerves down?

Then what about him pulling her closer?

No, it couldn't be because he was trying to hide her small stature with his own, away from the sight of others, right? How-?

She felt her eyes well and her lips purse.

"So… uh, should we…? We should get you inside."

Weak.

Futile.

Shameful.

Something so great as she had been pulled down so low by this sickness of hers, and yet, here came her subordinate, one she had belittled with a frequency abnormal to her own self, bringing her aid she, much to her embarrassment in admitting, needed. The warmth of his body gave her the strangest comfort she could have, at the moment.

But it wasn't the comfort she wanted.

"Take me inside, Katsuragi Keima…" surrendered the Enma, her body now limp on his. "And don't let anyone see."

Keima sighed as he hugged her away and into her office, whilst two hands tugged on the back of his yukata. Komachi looked on from her original spot, bewildered. Keima glanced to her, a signal for her to follow him.

Before a single person could come up to the Enma's floor, the door to Eiki's office closed.

The firm hands of Katsuragi Keima were more like miracles, then.


	7. Bedside Manners

If you were to have asked one of the Ministry's security guards about their experience with the Enma's recent string of judgings, they would have answered, in their wizened, thousand-year tongue, that the feared Yamaxanadu, was 'on point', 'much quieter', and 'off'. 'Very, very off'. And sure enough, true to their word- penned or spoken- they would have been right on the money. Throughout the past few days, even if there had been much more of the dead passing through Gensokyo's meandering Sanzu tributary than usual, enough that it would have swamped the well-known workaholic with all she could ever want, Enma Shiki Eiki's personal lectures to each of her judged souls was, to the confusion of many who've heard the rumors, absent. She judged with little exchange, in fact, and that only baffled those who watched. She would even take the liberty to engage herself in periodic breaks, which she reasoned as just so she could consider her final judgement. Yes, the act of meditation was something practiced by most Enma during the slower days, but she was an exception. To do so, now? Now that was speech-rending, most surprising.

Of course, the rumors went wild the moment someone's tongue made slip their revelations. Inquiry, and one of the fervent, furious kind, into the matter amounted to nothing, in those first days. She would not even speak to the other Enma, anymore, preferring to hide in her office throughout the day until another soul was to be judged, and all hands began to point at everything.

Working conditions? Impossible: they were all but the same, without change or alterations. Could it be ferryman Komachi's sudden, unexpected departure? Again, impossible, for what kind feelings would the Enma have for such a ferryman whose lazing preceded her reputation? It must just be a coincidence that she began acting so strangely the moment she departed.

The new ferryman, then?

At the suggestion, all eyes began to stare skeptically towards the new ferryman, whose name still eluded them.

Yes, he had been seen entering the Ministry quite a couple times. One of the Enma's apprentices even spoke of seeing him enter the Enma's office without so much as a knock, but his claim broke down when others spoke of no such thing, and that he was there only to courteously remind the Enma of the dead he had ferried for her to judge. No official investigation went underway to identify him, though. It was just one Enma, and one in charge of a place as troublesome as Gensokyo. Perhaps this was a phase, something that would disappear once her stress inevitably came down. Or perhaps it really was the new ferryman. Could it be something of the sinful kind? Some sort of happening that had left her temporarily unmotivated? The thought plagued the innocent minds of the many in Hogan, and like all plagues, there are those that strive for a tintment to rid the festering away.

And so, two Enma on break watched in silence in Shiki Eiki's courtroom.

"Your name is… uh… Kyosuke Tadashi?"

A bit of hesitation, there. Nothing telling.

"Okay, let me check the Mirror for a bit… Uh huh… Okay? …"

She was writing something down, they could tell. Notes? Interesting. Yamaxanadu never took notes before.

"Whoa, that's a-"

A clear of the throat. Her voice changed slightly, but that could just be her being parched.

"-A bit disturbing to look at…"

Since when was Yamaxanadu so disgusted of looking at anything save for genocide?

"Okay, I guess everything is done. We will take a, uh, short break, and wrap it up in five minutes, okay? I need to use the bathroom."

And Yamaxanadu descended from the podium.

 _EH_?!

So fast? Where was her terribly long tirades of everything? Where was the Rod of Remorse's show of number? Where was the beating for repentance?

 ** _EEEEEEH_**!?

The two Enma burst out of the room. Turning to their respective sides, the one on the right saw Shiki down the hallway, already receding into obscurity. She was going back to her room, they were sure of it, and they had to get answers! By the power of discussion, they must!

"WAIT, EIKI!"

She rounded the corner, into the stairwell. The two dashed forward.

"Eiki, this is a matter or much urgency! We must speak to-"

Then, they rounded the corner.

No living thing stared back.

"Wha-?"

An empty stairwell. Nothing of importance to see here.

"Where did she-?!"

In the darkness of the spiral that was the Ministry's left pillar of ascendance, Komachi sighed in relief from her quick recalling of the hagoromo's Eiki Doll. With the silence and safety, came her grumbling of the past few days as she walked up, exited, and reformed the doll right outside Eiki's office.

"I'm being overworked…!"

"No, you're not," Keima answered the moment he popped his head out from the door, an insensitive, stony look on his face threatening her with its glare, "Now get in and give Eiki the notes."

"Since when did you start saying her first name like it's nothing?" she grumbled, before making the doll walk inside.

The Enma's personal vocation had drastically changed throughout the days Keima had been with her, and Komachi couldn't help but respect him for making its redesigning so simple to do.

A futon lain in the middle of the room, where Eiki herself rested, and the lights were dimmed to aid her in her times of slumber. A stool and low-lying cabinet had been pushed close to it, for Keima to monitor her like some sort of nurse- to the subtle chagrin of the Shinigami- and a bin accompanied the furnishing, for when if the Enma felt the butterflies in her stomach forcing their way out. There was even a hot water boiler in the room, courtesy of Katsuragi, or, more truthfully, Komachi, who had to sneak into one of the Enma's break rooms to steal a spare hidden in some cabinet far within. The entire place was also spotless, as per Eiki's request to her ferryman, and she couldn't help but admit that this just didn't feel like her Emma's room, at all. Minus the bedding, it looked much better.

"Miss Eiki," Keima addressed as he lowered himself next to her, who, unfazed by the discomfort of the pain and his close proximity, turned her head to look at him, "Here is the report for the soul your copy has judged."

Grabbing the notepad, she shooed him away with a stubborn, "D-don't call me by my first name," and began to read in silence. The man kept himself still, waiting with an admirable patience for her to finish, though that only served to fluster the Enma and peeve the Shinigami.

Still, with all that Keima had done, Komachi kept her complaints in the back of her mind. She had been ferrying passengers across the Sanzu all day, with Katsuragi as the helmsman and her the invisible steer. On top of that, she had to bring that doll into the courtroom all the time, acting as its controller and voice (generally because it was tethered to her hagoromo), and FURTHER MORE, she had to go up those gruelling flights of stairs up to Eiki's room, just to deliver the informations , all while being invisible so the Enma couldn't find out that her doppelganger wasn't actually autonomous. Who knew the hagoromo could even do that, honestly. The marvels of New Hell technology, right?

But what was Katsuragi even trying to accomplish with all this? Those few days looked to have absolutely no progress, in her eyes, and it only served to nurture the nervous sensation she was starting to get. Even after vehement questioning, she still had no idea what he saw in the Enma that would make him conclude that she 'missed' her, and how he was remedying that at all. Was he slowly hypnotizing her, making her lose her memories of the shinigami? No, it didn't look like it, and both her and the Enma would have sensed it, by now. If he was hoping to replace her as the one receiving the Enma's unknown feelings, then wouldn't that be far too inefficient, anyways? She had worked with Eiki for years now, with centuries of history behind their relationship; so how was this buddy from the outside world, this human with his tiny lifespan, even going to 'replace' her? And wouldn't replacing her mean that he'd have to stay here? That last one, she at least had an answer to. Victims of Runaway Spirits, once they have been liberated of them, lose their memories either instantly, or shortly after the Spirit is expelled. He didn't go into the details, though, but he did at least least tell her that the Squad had some measures to erase a Devil's buddy off the victim's memories.

Back to the topic: all he had been doing was getting close to her and all, and whether or not those body collisions and 'touching'- no, don't you dare go there- were accidents didn't matter to her. All that mattered was that it was getting weird, and plain detestable! Wasn't he trying to close the gap in her heart? How was all this touchy stuff and 'oh, I'll take great care of you' nothing short of actions meant to woo the other party into something as silly as romance?! Everything he was doing wasn't making sense, but, just recently, when she asked him to elaborate on his methods, his only response was a simple, damn, frustrating:

"You wouldn't understand. Besides, I'm making great progress here, so stop asking."

 _Oi, oi, respect your elders! Tell me, tell me, tell me! I'm lost and tired, here, so you might as well spill the beans!_

She, in the present, gave a bullish snort, audible enough for Shiki to suspect that Katsuragi had been the one making the noise.

"What was that?"

"Ah, s-sorry, I just had a bit of a runny nose, right now."

"What, did I make you sick too?"

Katsuragi, in a disgustingly extravagant display, came to his genuflecting pose and cried, "No, Miss Eiki! Do not burden yourself with the thought! Please rest until you have fully recovered; for I, Katsuragi Keima, will be with you until Onozuka Komachi, the woman you miss, returns!"

Not surprisingly, the Enma was now frantically flapping and slapping the notepad on his lowered head, crying about her first name and the shinigami herself. She was really, really red, though. No, not red about her heartache of yours truly- whatever that meant- but red from just him still proposing that that was the case.

So, wait, was she still missing her? Or was something unseen and unidentifiable developing within her?

ARGH!? She didn't know!

"Black," the Enma answered the judging with forceful breath, before she handed the clipboard back and, with a turn away from Katsuragi's location, muttered, "And please get me some hot water."

Katsuragi, barely reacting to the prospect that a soul was going to Hell, was quick to oblige, and, once he had given her the requested nourishment, he pushed the doll- thus, Komachi- out of the room so she could deliver the verdict in the courtroom. But before he could close the door and let the Shinigami do as she was told, Komachi tugged him out, much to the Enma's clueless bafflement, and confronted him outside.

Pulling the hagoromo off her face, she glared at the rather nonchalant boy and fired off her first question, "What're you doing?"

"Getting closer to her, duh."

"What does that even mean!?"

"W-why're you even complaining? As long as you listen to my instructions, we should be fine."

"'Should be'? 'SHOULD BE'!? What'd you mean by that!?"

"Hey, keep your voice down."

"All I've seen you do is fake ferrying souls, then going up to her office, and sitting there while I do all the actual hard work!"

"Hey, I'm the human who's not sleeping at all! And what'd you think I do when I'm inside?"

"Oh, how about you explain that, huh? What's with that little 'incident' two days ago, huh?"

"That was a mandatory event I had to go through to… 'strengthen our bonds'."

"HOW DOES **THAT** EVEN HELP HER IN THE SLIGHTEST!? JUST HOW LONG IS YOUR METHOD GOING TO TAKE!?"

"Well," Katsuragi placed a hand on his chin, "It's almost done."

Komachi paused at the answer.

Almost done? Wait, really? But it all looked like nothing, to her.

Keima continued, "The ending is pretty near, now, and, if it goes as planned, I'll close the gap in her heart, and get the Spirit out of her."

E-ending? What mumbo-jumbo was he-?

Once again, she couldn't think any further without fizzing our her brain. The boy was silencing her with his gaze, and what a gaze it was, all serious and adultlike. It infuriated her.

"If you're doubting me, then let me tell you this:"

"Eh?"

Both gazes detached. The God of Conquest brushed past her puzzled form.

"I will rid her of the Spirit by tomorrow. That's all."

Komachi, as curious as ever, bated the urge. If he was going to continue playing hard to get, then she might as well just ignore the stupid vagueness. The Shinigami, without a word to spare, turned away as he returned to the room.

O - O - O - O

Eiki laid on the futon, contemplating as she waited for the ferryman to re-enter her room and wait whilst his powers went to work.

How many days had it been since he first laid her on the futon and started helping? How long had it been since Komachi had gone, and he entered into her life.

I ** _f Miss Onozuka has used her powers of manipulating distance to help you, then I, Katsuragi Keima, shall use my powers of creating a doppelganger of you, to do the same._**

Him, always parading around his respect for her. It embarrassed her to no end.

 ** _No tea. Your pain started with it, right? You'll just have to bear with warm water, for now._**

He even blew into her cup. Sure, it was only to cool its contents, but how shameless could he be?

Eiki turned to her sides, and looked at the stool in which he sat upon all those times of visiting and monitoring. Sometimes, he would watch her rest, like some creep, but he'd never do anything. Other times, he would be tidying the place.

 ** _Ah, I just thought alphabetically ordering these documents made a lot more sense than by date. I mean, the dates for these aren't that important, right? It's not like these are save files_**.

She pulled her blanket up to half of her face, and frowned with a burning face beneath the fabric. He didn't need to take up so much of his own time doing that. He had his ferrying job to focus on; shouldn't he be conserving energy for that?

Everything about the ferryman was too much for her. All the help she was receiving, and for what? She had berated him, made his role model look more deranged than, she hoped, he thought, and here he was, forgiving her for it and even offering to keep her company throughout the ordeal. Why was he so nice? The Enma of Justice couldn't comprehend it at all. What purpose could it even accomplish, helping her to such an extent?

Eiki sighed. Somethings are not meant to beholden answers with just simple reflecting.

Even with all these questions, doubts and fears in her heart, she waited, patiently for him to arrive. She was starting to become eager of his presence-

"W-what?" she asked herself, steam rising out of her head from the thoughts, "What am I-?"

"Yes, my Enma?"

She stilled as the voice entered her ears and the young ferryman's legs came into view, stifling her tongue. He had returned, sitting back down at his little desk where he would stay for a few minutes more, before leaving for the responsibilities of the Sanzu.

"I-Is your doll going to give the verdict?" She had no particular reason to ask that question, but the urge was too strong; it just came out of her mouth without any consideration.

"Yeah. It'll just be a few minutes."

She frowned. Yes, she was relieved that he did not find offense in such a useless question, but she had hoped it would have made for a better connector in further conversation. This was where the conversation usually ended. Today, though? Today, she was feeling particularly selfish, much to her worry. Had she become sinful during all this inactivity? Had her morals degraded? Or perhaps the shackles of being an Enma had lost its grip on her priorities?

Then again, even if I'm feeling guilty about those things, I can't say that I hate how hardworking he is.

Heh, what was this old Enma thinking? What silly little…

She paused her thoughts. No, it wasn't because she remembered something else, no; she just wanted to look at his face. And so, with clandestine prowess, she turned her sideways head up. Once his face, and the reflection of her own recovery in his glasses, entered her view, his eyes met with hers, and she immediately looked away, afraid of the wrongful interpretations he would have.

Really, what was this old Enma thinking…?

Well, she was thinking of talking to him. Of getting to know him, to understand him, to hear him like all the times they had talked throughout the week. She was thinking of wanting. She **wanted**.

"Katsuragi?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it like, back in New Hell? I haven't visited for many years, so... I'm curious."

The ferryman leaned back and looked away in thought, trying to remember. "Well, it's… much bigger. A little more advance than the Ministry."

"I've heard that there's a new system of judging souls, hmm?"

"Y-yeah, b-but I'm not well-versed in that…"

She sighed. "Much, much faster than the Sanzu and the Enma's judging. A system where all the dead souls in a designated location are funneled into one location, all to be judged and sent to Heaven or Hell by way of simple tallies."

"Well, not a good system for y- us, huh?"

"What makes you say that, Katsuragi."

Both their gazes met. His, deep yet downcast as the shadows of rainclouds.

"We're starting to go obsolete."

Eiki, much to his surprise, chuckled. So that was what he was so worried about?

"No, no. I'll continue on being Enma. You'll go on doing other, much more important occupations once my original ferryman returns."

"Why you?"

Good question.

"Gensokyo's special, Katsuragi. Only the system of the Enma can judge youkai with any modicum of accuracy and success. The new system was never built for them, anyway. Too many years to judge, too difficult to even gain anything accurate."

Keima's eyes did not shift, but his voice did lower at the revelation.

"You'll be the only Enma, one day…"

"And when that day comes, you'll have quit being ferryman, and have moved on."

"And Onozuka Komachi will stay by your side." His addition was almost immediate.

Impressive guessing. Eiki couldn't help but give a mellow smile to him as reward for the reminder.

"Miss Eiki?" Katsuragi called to her, waking her from her smiling trance. She, surprised by how silly it was for her to smile at a subordinate that way, wiped the emotions off her face and, with monotone fervour, sputtered out her reply:

"Y-yes?"

"Are you..." he paused to lean down. Surprising for both parties was the fact that she flinched in response. "Uh… Are you still hurting?"

"Oh…" Well, that was a plain question. She didn't know why she was so worked up about something as small as…

Wait, the pain.

It… was it really...?

Quickly, she propped herself up, and felt around. She moved her joints, breathed deeply, finally got to bend her knees after so long. It was gone. The terrible malaise that had cursed her and battered her had disappeared. She couldn't believe it.

"Whoa!" the ferryman celebrated first, giving a standing ovation to the stunned Enma as she stared, speechless, at the marvelous recovery. "You've fully recovered! Now you can work as the Enma again."

Yes, he was... well, that… that's right! She could take up her mantle once again! Oh, after so long, she could now walk, write reports, read reports without him reciting them, do so many, many things! Oh, bliss! Eiki combed her fringe back in total utter speechlessness. A giggle escaped her, before the glee spilled over and a hearty howl forced its way out of her.

Katsuragi, never one to ignore the happiness of his idols, laughed and raised his arm in triumph alongside her.

"It-! It's gone, Katsuragi! Oh, may Heaven bless, I am fine!"

"Wow, that's great!" Katsuragi cooed with utter jubilance, dancing in comical excitement. She almost wanted to join in, if not for the dangers of the movement bringing back the pain.

"Yes, it is! Hahah, I feel like a new Jizou!"

"Now I can return back to my post without disturbing you anymore!"

Yes, Katsuragi. This man right here, who'd been with her throughout her illness, was right! Hahahahaha, he was right! He was…

Eiki stopped prancing the moment she heard her lungs demanding her to pant.

 _Wait_.

She readied to speak, but something fell on her head; the familiar frills of her hat were unmistakable to her cranium.

"Okay, now you're the Enma of Gensokyo again. Other than that: Miss Eiki, I think you can still take over the doll without any issues. I'll be on my way, now."

She blinked, an acute sense of airiness diluting her senses.

 _Please wait a minute_.

She blinked. Was that Katsuragi Keima by the door?

"Well, uh, I hope it doesn't come back. Other than that, there isn't a reason for me to visit, anymore, so if you want, you can… Well, I'm not Komachi, so I don't know what you and I could do in our free time. So…"

He...

 _Are you leaving me_?

"Till next time, okay? And sorry for disturbing you, all this time."

The door to the Enma's office closed.

Eiki breathed, her tempo slowing, her thoughts focused on the door. One hand had gone its way to stretch outward, its hand open, reaching for something that was not there anymore. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to know why, and so, stricken with the thoughts of nothingness, she sat down on the futon.

"You…"

Her lips shook as the warm air brushed past them.

"You didn't disturb me at all… Keima…"

She couldn't hide it: she liked his visits. It really did make her day somewhat more interesting, especially since she had been practically inanimate throughout all that time. Komachi didn't even visit, that often. Usually it was her who had to be the visitor to her part of the tree growing at her dock.

She didn't want to admit it, but keeping it in her was a hopeless endeavour, after all.

She was going to miss him keeping her compa-

 _You miss Onozuka._


	8. Sanzu Matrimony

_Thank you all for continuing to read this story. I received some great reviews this time, and you guys make me blush. I'm again, I am beholden to you, the readers, and I respect your decision to continue reading and enjoying this story. It's an honour to serve._

 _In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Bah, what am I kidding, you'll find this chapter utterly delectable. Have fun~_

O - O - O - O

Eiki blinked. She found herself staring longingly at the ceiling. Numb. Short of breath.

Something was off.

Since when did she lay on her futon once again? And her body, she felt it sprawled so carelessly that it couldn't possibly have been her conscious will that had done it. What happened? Did she black out? When? She turned to check her-

Guh-

" **A-AAAAHHH**?!"

The Enma collapsed to her knees, hands clawing at her stomach. Everything stung, her ears rang, her tongue tasted fire. She couldn't breathe.

The pain.

It had returned, at full force as well!

Katsuragi? Where was he? Shouldn't he be-?

Eiki struggled up to her feet, holding on to her chest as its every heartbeat and inflation of the lungs laid waste to her ribs. There, her clock, on the table. She reached for it, and turned it towards her.

Her face dropped.

Hours. A dozen had passed.

And then the memories flooded in. The emergence, the suffering she went through so long ago, when it had initially resurfaced, had rendered her unconscious. No, if that were true, then didn't Keima at least come to visit.

Her body creaked as she looked round the room, eyes blurry from the uncontrollable tears sliding down her face. Nothing.

Nothing?

Why was there nothing that indicated to her that he had come?

The answer was that he hadn't.

Eiki cupped her mouth.

Something… Something was-

She dove for the bin, and heaved. Heaved so hard that the sound of nothing made her pains escalate even further, to places beyond her body's comprehension. She had nothing in her stomach. Keima really didn't come. He… he would have at least made her drink something in her sleep.

Eiki couldn't help it, but her body locked in place, and she sobbed with her head halfway into where she had thrown countless balls of paper trash into, before. Pathetic, in a dark room, without any lights. Without Keima; without Komachi; and without anyone to make her days different.

Then, the unspeakable urge hit her. She blushed weakly at the thought, her reddened cheeks fighting desperately against her paled face, but couldn't bear to tolerate the onslaught it demanded.

If Keima wasn't here to see her, then she had to do what she had always done with Komachi.

 **She** had to see **him**.

And so, with Rod not on hand, and her hat still lying lifeless on the ground, she, with drunken stride, pushed her aching self to the door, and opened it.

Every step, every swing of the arm, every minute exertion, hurt her. Every push to the next stride made her eyes ready its next batch of floods. She had to hold it in- she had to- and so, by sheer willpower, she descended the stairs, exited the Ministry with so little as but passing glances, and entered the scythe garden. The straggler tried to fly, and, to her surprise, she found out she could, but not by much, for it strained her entire body till her sweat became the crying of her nerves.

She could not stop now, though. Her body steeled, she shot forward, out of the garden and into Higan. She had to find him. She had to trace through his route of the Sanzu, and find him at the dock. Find him.

 _Why didn't you come, today?_

 _Why didn't you let me talk to you?_

 _Why didn't you care when I was knocked down, again?_

Before long, she crashed herself on Higan's beaches. The familiar scent of the sand wafted her nose. There was no word to describe her exhaustion. She wanted to rest on the grains for just a moment more, some inner temptation luring her to slothness, but, in the moment of her lowest, she resisted. She fought against her inner urges. She fought against the voice that clearly wasn't hers, and, with shaky feet she once again peeled herself off the floor to stand in crooked pride in Higan's shores.

The familiar yukata entered her view.

"K-Keima…" she muttered, almost in disbelief, to herself.

All the flying, and for this. He was here. Here, all along!

Thank God!

Had he ferried his next soul? Was he going to go with her, to talk to her and make her feel better? Oh stop it, you, you're the Enma, you're not supposed to be so easily excitable, especially with a younger ferryman. Oh, what was she feeling under all this relief. Could it be, could it be?

The snore broke her trance.

Katsuragi Keima, laying haphazardly in the boat, looked really comfortable in his nap, there and then.

Eiki blinked.

Eiki **blinked** **hard**.

"Katsu…"

She took one shaky step forward.

He was sleeping.

"Katsura…"

One step forward.

He was sleeping.

Her lips opened and closed, as the words began to formulate.

"Katsuragi…"

He was sleepi-

"KATSURAGI **KEIMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**!!!!"

Fist met cheek. Katsuragi launched out of the vessel, screaming shocked awe as he flew and skidded into the flowers. Eiki snarled the hardest she had ever snarled.

The boy frantically pushed his face off the crater, and, looking very much overcome with the sudden pain, screamed questions into the air. Eiki, though, was having NONE of it.

"YOU!"

Keima snapped his horrified expression towards her.

"YOU **LISTEN HERE**!!"

In that very moment, Yamaxanadu descended into the Hellish plains.

" **KATSURAGI KEIMA, SLEEPING ON THE JOB IS NOT ACCEPTABLE AS A FERRYMAN! ESPECIALLY IF YOU'VE BEEN EXPLICITLY DOING SO FOR THE PAST TEN OR SO HOURS, AND IN HIGAN, FOR GOODNESS SAKE! HOW MANY SOULS ARE WAITING BACK THERE, RIGHT NOW**!?"

The gates had blast open, and the rust of its hinges snapped and bounced off in predictable fashion. When she lectured, oh, did she lecture, lashing him with her tongue, an entire library's worth of words pouring out of her mouth. What he had done to the cycle of life and death, what he had done to his job integrity, what he had done to her… She almost wanted to kill him!

"I just hope I at least have some persuasive influence in you, Katsuragi, because I want this behavior changed, now! No, don't you dare interrupt me with your fancy excuses! Your neglect has cost you the good deed of earning and spending, for both you and the souls awaiting your pickup!!"

Something felt off of her as she continued in her lecture.

It was small, at first, completely negligible in the face of her unstoppable rage, but, as the seconds ticked by, it swelled.

It was no pain. No, it was something much, much better.

"A-and, if you may, please reflect on your behavior! Reflect on all of it; **ALL OF IT**! Your dealings with me, your brazen selfishness, y-your 'accidents' and this unsightly m-misconduct! And wait, I'm not done, yet! There is much to speak about your boating, as well! No, I have to repeat this!"

She didn't know this, because there was no mirror for her to check, but she was smiling. Her grin had grown so large that it forced her elated eyes closed. The feeling within was no detriment. It was no danger. It wasn't even the pain, anymore.

 _It was sheer bliss._

The tears streaming down her face, carving a new path through the dried tears of old, could attest to that.

Slowly, they stopped flowing, depleted. She, on the other hand, did not stop speaking. Her blossoming smile was there to stay, and with its staying, her eyes never opened throughout, seeming to be glued by the drying of her tears. She didn't need to see him to continue, because she just wanted to scream lectures into the wind. Never had Higan witnessed such passion in scolding that the Sanzu's entire bank receded like that of a frightened tide. It was almost magnificent.

"S-so…"

She panted, breathless from the ecstasy as her half-hour lecture came to an end. Her body buckled from feeling giddy all over; the aches had subsided, and her eyes begged to be opened. Her cheek muscles felt like Heaven had pulled upon them. "Let me repeat myself: please reflect on your behavior, Keima, and I will be... satisfied, yes, that's the word. Satisfied."

Once her breathing cooled down, she opened her eyes to see him, to see the callous ignorance she expected of her lectured.

All she could see was the patterns of his yukata.

Katsuragi Keima, when he was on his feet, loomed and overshadowed the little Enma. Finally, did he move his lips.

"Shouldn't it be 'please reflect on your behavior, _Komachi_ '?"

Eiki's breath halted.

"Are you happy because of me," Eiki took a step back as he continued, eliciting a step forward from him, "Because you're lecturing me, or because you're lecturing Komachi?"

"W-what are you-" she, shakily, responded under his breath. She couldn't even look up at him. "What are you saying?"

The glare the man gave almost made her sick.

"What does she mean to you?"

"Eh?"

His voice began to embolden. It began to turn firm in tone, and she felt terror in the face of it. "All this time, I've felt like you've been pushing me away, somehow. I can't compare to what she does to you, is that it?"

"Wait, j-just let me-"

"What…"

Suddenly, his hands landed on the sides of her arms, locking them in place. She wanted to scream, but before she could, his face pulled closer, and she stared into the brown expanses of his eyes

"Is she to you? And why did I nearly replace it?!"

She froze. But her lips, crinkling into a flushed scowl, barked against him.

"I-I'll charge you for harrassment, for this! A-and your actual punishment for neglect will increase tenfold for that alone!"

"I don't care!"

Their foreheads touched. Brown expanse combusted into brown fire.

"The pain came back because I left, right?"

"W-What kind of silly-"

"You're not holding your Rod, and your hat's missing."

Eiki turned silent at the observation. She faltered. An Enma without reason is but once again a wordless Jizou statue, but that did not stop Keima from continuing. With increasing fervour, he continued:

"But didn't it start when Komachi left? Didn't it stop when I helped you? Why did it come back when I left? Didn't it stop JUST NOW when you came to give me one of your lectures!? If it does stem from you missing her, then why did it disappear, and why did you come for me for a cure!? If you want me to really help you, then tell me, PLEASE!"

The breeze of the Sanzu blew at the flowers around their feet.

Eiki pursed her lips tightly. She seemed so in pain trying to look away, to not meet his gaze.

He wouldn't understand.

No one would.

 _No one could!_

No one could understand who she was to her! Even she didn't fully grasp it! Komachi was- She was- She- He-

Her hands snapped on to his arms, and she struggled to break their vice. She thrashed, screamed in anger at her ferryman, but he did not budge. Desperation made way for inner panic, because the longer she stared into the earthen depth of his eyes, the more she couldn't resist. The more it clawed at the walls she built, the more it could not be contained. In the end, she could not let the words stay in her mouth.

Keima, the man she had grown so close to, finally heard everything he needed to hear.

"K-Komachi…!"

His glare kept itself still on her. She hesitated, but then finally snapped.

"Komachi gave me purpose, okay!? She gave what an old Enma like me always wanted, and that was something outside of the courtroom!"

And yet he still glared.

However, he finally let go.

She answered the relinquishing by running away. Once she ran far enough, and when her energy seemed too depleted for anymore arduous escapes, she slowed, and then crawled to a halt. The urge for her to turn back around tugged at her heart, but she couldn't. She didn't want to see him. All she wanted to see was the Sanzu in the horizon.

Legs heavy, she fell on her backside, and curled into a ball. Her position as the respectable Enma was nothing to her anymore. She had said too much. Only the sounds of the lapping waves were music to her ears. Eiki wanted him to leave her alone. She wanted desperately for him to just set sail and leave her here on the coast. She wanted to reminisce to herself.

Judging by the sounds of the flowers snapping beside her, he wasn't going to do just as he said. She sighed, and buried her face in between her curled arms and stuck legs.

Her lips, though, parted. The words began to connect and slither out.

Keima, watching the horizon with her, listened.

She wanted him to listen.

And he granted it.

"You might be thinking… that as an Enma, I should already have a purpose. Well, I thought that as well when I first got promoted into the position."

Silence answered back.

"But after a thousand years of it, everything starts to slow down. A 'purpose' and a 'duty'… They're just not the same. A 'duty' is as menial as a habit: everyday, it was the same routine. A purpose, though…? For a being like me, I took it to mean something you wake up eager for, not something you woke up knowing you have to do. I… Throughout those initial years, I lost sight of so many things. Throughout the centuries… I was blind. Tunnel vision was the only kind of vision for me. I felt…"

She inhaled a sharp breath.

"Pathetic."

The wind blew both their hairs. Higan stopped in vowed silence. The flowers stopped dancing.

Until the tangible listener spoke.

"And then Komachi entered your life."

She gave a weak smile at how correct his guessing was.

"Even then, she was a slacker, making excuses, sleeping, all the likes. The ferryman I had before- I've forgotten his name, but I hope he's doing well… he had always done his job, so her sudden laziness really… I wasn't used to it, that's what I'm trying to convey. I tried talking to her, tried advising her; I even tried giving her rewards and gifts, a carrot for those trying times, all to no avail… And then, one day, I… snapped…"

"And then what?"

"I **found** it. My lectures. I-I'd never even thought about it before: berating people. Telling them to change, or else they would be punished. Everyday, for the past three hundred years since Almage-Machina, I've visited her, always during my break. I'd give her my lecture, and I'd feel good about it, because it would always remind me of what she did. Besides, I liked talking to her. She was so charismatic." Eiki unclasped her hands, and shuffled her posture on the flowers. "She was the one who accompanied me to Gensokyo once the Barrier was erected. So many sinning, so many to teach, and with so little time in between work breaks. Those first years were… regrettably short, though."

"Everyone started avoiding you?"

She took no offence to that. Instead, she chuckled softly to herself, and muttered beneath her arms, "Yes, that did happen… But Komachi never once tried to escape when I caught her. She would just sit down, and let me talk, all with that stupid, airy grin of hers, saying 'I'm sorry', and 'forgive and forget'. Naive.

"But… That was what made her so fun to lecture. I do miss her, Keima. I do. But what can I do about it, other than wait? I am an Enma, and my duties are what tells me to go on."

Well, she supposed she had said everything. Keima knew now. Her new ferryman knew now. She grimaced at the thought. What had she done? Why did she think it was fine to bombard the new employee with stories of old workmen relationships? Eiki could not help but pity what interpretations he would get in his head.

In this part of the Sanzu, the fog was gone, and only the light of Heaven casted down upon the flowerfield; the light, for the first time ever, felt liberating. Great boulders fell off her shoulder. She was free of the past she had to bottle up. She was done, and all she wanted to do now was wait for her to return.

"Then why did I nearly replace her?"

Eiki **stopped**.

She turned, wide-eyed to the ferryman beside her. But he wasn't done. He was not done.

"Why haven't you answered that question? If she was so special, then why, for just those moments when I was in your office, did I replace her?"

W-what was he trying to say!? Stumbling to her feet, she glared down upon him, sickened by his foolishness. He had made the argument before, and even then, she was not convinced by the irrationality of his hypothesis. Was he really thinking that she would replace such an important part of her life? That was why she pushed him aside in the first place, was that not a good enough hint!?

"Do you really think you can just do that to her, so easily!?" Eiki hissed as she swiftly got up to her feet.

"Of course I can!" He rose up too, with surprising speed. "Because I saw it!"

And then he approached. Every part of her bristled with reinvigorated fright. Her feet, driven by reflex, turned, and she readied her dash. LAnd yet again, he caught her by the arm.

Cold sweat.

 _No._

 _I thought I was done. I thought what I said would have pushed you away!_

 _Why do you keep coming!_

"Don't run away, anymore!"

She couldn't stop the fear from reaching her face.

Why? Just… why?

Why was her body listening to him?

Keima pulled himself closer to her, till their bodies nearly touched. He glared, fierce as a tiger, down at her, and she cowered, meek as a mouse, up at him, "If you keep dwelling in your memories of her, none of your problems will be solved!"

"You don't understand, do you, you selfish barbarian!?"

"Understand **WHAT**!?" She flinched at his roar. "I understand that you're lonely, and that her company and the reason of lecturing her cured that loneliness. What else is there to understand!? The only thing I don't understand is why you can't just be sure of yourself!"

 _"Sure of your-_? Sure of myself?! I am the **Enma**! All my judgements are of **total** , unanimous, proven certainty, and I have judged that you, Keima, are not worthy of replacing her in my head!"

Again, she tried to pull away, but again Keima pulled her back.

"Then why did you come to look for me?" he yelled at her. "Why were you so happy when you were lecturing me? Why did the pain come back when I left? Why are you calling me by my first name, **Shiki Eiki**!?"

Eiki faltered in everything.

He…

She couldn't believe it. The look in his eyes were earnest, begging her to stop. Begging for her to stop constricting the burgeoning fruit within her.

In the distance, the two would have looked like ballroom dancers, statuette in the landscape. Keima, taller, the encroaching figure or the protective shell, and Eiki, the shorter, the cornered criminal, or the protected pearl.

In the light of the Sanzu, they were beautiful together.

"I…"

Her breath shook.

Her body shook.

Her tears shook. "I just wanted to see you… I wanted to see Komachi, but you... only you were there…"

Eiki, exhausted, buried her head into his torso, her spine finally given way to his strength holding her from the clutches of gravity. A silent weep exited her throat as she dug herself deeper. She thought herself tragic, a simple Enma in need of company to remind her that she was alive, and not some cog in a machine. It was a machine she loved, and it was a task she admired, but all of it felt artificial. It was only through her, that the rust was taken off, and the cog shone once again.

"I don't want to feel this, anymore, Keima. I don't… It… It interferes with my work…"

"Then you don't have to wait. Let me in."

"Huh?"

Her blue eyes stared clueless into his.

"Let me into your heart. Let me comfort you throughout her absence like I did when you were in pain. Let me be as I was intended: a replacement. Until she comes back."

She breathed to the sound of his beating pulse. Hesitating-

"Please, my Enma."

Eiki blinked.

He blinked as well.

That finally broke the straw.

Hands shot forth, and fingers wrapped around the collar around his yukata. Her body tensed- no, it didn't just do that. It readied for what was to come.

"No… You can't replace her…" she muttered under shaky breath, but her shuddering did not reflect her will. Her tight hands did.

She wasn't going to push him away. Not anymore.

"But you can give this old Enma something else other than that."

"And… what's that?"

His glasses glistened with her resolve. A mirror. A reflection. A...

" **Purpose**."

Her lips met his.

And the Sanzu churned and struggled at the sight.

The zest flying through her crackled in her skin. The softness of him was amazing; she felt like she could meld into his every being, and she wished that he had felt the same. All the pressure, all its weights, they unchained themselves from her mind as it drew into blinding blankness. There were no rules of romance between Enma and ferryman, because holy matrimony of that kind had never happened before. But her arms didn't care if they wrapped around his neck, for if Heaven tasted like this, then she would never let go.

The judgement is: **White**.

 _There are those that may envy_

 _And call this bond a lustful affair._

 _They think in a rigid caste_

 _Where no bonds shall be made between_

 _Those who are too different._

 _Love works like money, in some way_

 _Equivalent earning and spending become good deeds, themselves._

 _In love's case, though, Heaven allows_

 _And it blesses._


	9. Little Shinigami, Huge Revelation

The Little Shinigami that could didn't know what the God of Conquest Keima meant when he said he 'saw the ending'. She was an innocent little girl, who was tasked to work with him. She asked him questions, but for some reason, she never got her answers. The Little Shinigami that could was sad. She wanted answers. Answers would have made her much less confused.

The little Shinigami that could was told by Keima to hide and wait at the banks of the flowery wonderland, Higan. She didn't know why, but when she saw Keima take a nap, she did too. She liked naps, because they helped her rest and get better. She napped happily, because her friend and coworker Eiki was fine now. She knew that because Keima told her.

Still, a part of her was confused. If Eiki was fine, then what was the next part of the plan? The Little Shinigami that could didn't know. Keima never gave her an answer. She wanted answers. Answers would have made her less worried.

Ten hours later, the Little Shinigami that could was very worried. They had been waiting for a long time. Keima was also mildly miffed by the conundru- I mean, Keima was also worried. He had been napping for ten hours, just like her. Their nap did not help them rest and get better.

The Little Shinigami that could asked him questions. He gave her vague responses. Those are answers that do not answer the question very well. She didn't like that part about him, so she got angry and scolded him, but he didn't care, and did not listen to her. She wanted answers. Answers would have made her less angry.

But then Eiki came! She didn't see the Little Shinigami that could, because she was invisible. The Little Shinigami that could was confused. Why was she here? Keima had already gone back into his nap, so she could not ask him the question. And then, suddenly, Eiki punched Keima in the face, and he flew out of the boat. How surprising!

Eiki must be really mad that she found him sleeping on the job. She thought. Then she got very worried. Keima was trying to become good friends with her, so that he could save her from the ghosty. But now Eiki was angry at him. That must have made their friendship turn bad.

The Little Shinigami that could watched as she scolded him. Wow, she was scolding him a lot. It lasted for almost half an hour. An hour is sixty minutes, so half an hour is thirty minutes. Eiki had scolded her that long before, but to do it on Keima? She was very, very surprised. And then Eiki started smiling, and started crying. She wasn't sad. She was actually very happy. The Little Shinigami was confused. She wanted answers. Answers would have made her less lost.

Then, things… started happening. Keima started doing… something. Wait, why was he holding her like that? Oi, Eiki clearly didn't want to be treated that way- Wait, what was with that confession? Oh, the Little Shinigami that could got embarrassed from listening to her. Now they were sitting at the banks? She came closer to them, and listened.

Eiki was telling a sad story about herself. The Little Shinigami that could had never heard of this before. She had talked with Eiki many times, but here she was, telling Keima that. How strange. Did Eiki trust him more that she trusted the Little Shinigami that could?

Ah, but Keima ruined the moment, that stupid idiot. Hadn't she told you everything? What're you trying to pull!?

Eiki wanted to run away, because Keima was too forceful-

Katsuragi, stop it! What're you doing?! What in Hell is with this development!? Can't you just comfort her and, I dunno, coax the Spirit out or something!? You two look like you're gonna confess to each…

Other…

The Little Shinigami that could remembered something.

 _Oh, she remembered someone saying love, like that was a good choice._

 _Love._

 _ **Love**._

Ah, she finally understood what he was doing. Oh, how funny, Mister Irony is.

The Little Shinigami that could smiled. How happy she was, that she finally had the answers. She couldn't be any devastated.

And then she-

 **KATSURAGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**!!!!!!!!!

-grabbed her scythe.

Anger makes even the wisest of humans make stupid decisions. And if the decisions of angered wise men are considered 'stupid', then what was Komachi's?

What could the Shinigami do when her body took control of its own self, fueled only by the rawest of emotions, and in arms reach of a weapon? Her mind could not comprehend it. She couldn't believe that she had been lied to all this time, and the welling rage had made her erupt into action. He wanted to kiss Eiki. He wanted to defile her Enma, right there, right in front of her face.

She had snuck closer to the two when they sat down, and was only a short walk away from them. When they came closer, and when she absorbed the escalating tension in the air and realized that it was at its very peak, she closed that distance in two steps. The hagoromo tore off her, unable to keep up with her sudden burst of speed.

The reaper's scythe hadn't tasted blood for three hundred years.

 **DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE**!!

Rear back.

Target closing in.

Aim for the head. Blunt edge of the scythe! Give this lecherous man a damn concussion if he might!

In this part of the Sanzu, there are no rules against assaulting a human.

But then Eiki pulled his head down.

Komachi whiffed a mile's arc. Her jaw unhinged. She didn't stop him.

"No… You can't replace her…"

Ah, a light at the end of the tunnel! Hurray! Eiki is still pure!

"But, you can give this old Enma something more."

The first bead of sweat touched Komachi's crinkling smile.

"And what's that?"

Komachi felt her hands literally give up; they lost her grip on her scythe, and it flung into the air, a perfect encapsulation of the new couple's wedding bouquet being thrown into the air.

Oh shit.

"Purpose."

She saw him lower down into her lips. She saw them touch. She saw them crease and squish beneath the force of the other.

The Little Shinigami that could **broke**.

"… Eh…?"

Komachi slumped as her muscles shut down. A weak, accusing finger hovered up, its shaking parts doing little to prop its usually dramatic accusations. Her pupils had totally migrated, at this point, and it would take metal parts to screw her jaw back into its original spot.

"Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh…?"

And then a great eruption blasted her aside.

The winds lashed, it sliced and swirled like a hurricane around the two newly linked people, so powerful that it snapped flower stems and summoned petals and leaves into the air. The broken record-of-a-Shinigami had been blown back, as well, but the damage it did to her, fortunately, helped the situation, because the moment she landed on her rump, she snapped out of her disbelieving, blasphemy-crying state, and watched- as Komachi, this time- the two as their kiss deepened.

She was at a loss for words, so dumbstruck that she couldn't even think in the presence of such insane majesty, only feel. And she felt an absolute madman's crock-pot of emotions. Almage-Machina didn't make her that speechless with its corruption and its carnage and atrocities, but this? This was incredible.

No, no, she wasn't at a loss for words. The one thing exiting her voice box was the wheezing, dying remains of her 'eh?'. She sounded absolutely miserable.

Suddenly, she saw Keima's hands wrap around Eiki, much to her further shock, and she came to believe that he was trying to suck the life out of him. A strange belief, but her smothered brain couldn't think otherwise. The Enma, slumping down, flopped into his arms. She looked to have lost consciousness, and that gave Komachi more proof to that wild claim. She would have charged…

Had it not been for her brain smacking her awake with Keima's words. The wind, it had been from the Spirit's escape, and Eiki's body had opted to lose consciousness in response, just... like what he said could happen!

Keima, ever so observant, wasted no time in reminding her.

"THE DETENTION BOTTLE, KOMACHI! GET THAT RUNAWAY SPIRIT!"

She panicked. Rushing up to her feet, she, with fumbling hands, patted all over herself in her dire attempts to look for said piece of equipment, and found one hooked beneath the white cloth draped above her blue dress. Quickly, to the point where she did not even look up to see the Spirit or its form- curiosity is much less an influencer when a voice screams at you to take the wheel- she took the bottle out, pointed it into the sky, and opened its cap, readying herself for the massive sucking power the little tool had.

Moternaster Es Tsubakikins, the original replacement, popped out instead.

"Eh?" Keima uttered as his eyes grew wide as plates.

"Huh?" Komachi blinked her own set clear.

The sound of her malnourished body killing the flowers beneath answered back. And then the deafening silence blanketed over.

"Ah," a stray sound exited Komachi's mouth, "I forgot about her…"

Why did it feel like that boy was looking at her like some degenerate from the deepest pits of Tartarus, and not at an innocent Shinigami forced to tag along with his romantic antics?

"F-forgive and forget?"

O - O - O - O

Katsuragi Keima, fresh off his capture of a literal judge of Hell's heart, could not muster the energy to even be proud of himself by the overwhelming success. Never mind the fact that Komachi might have overreacted and nearly taken off his head- which, within the realm of calculations, he hadn't expected, having thought her to be very much indifferent to the envy or jealousy of kissing her Enma to that degree of aggression- and never mind the fact that the replacement they had detained in the bottle was a high-ranking official in the Runaway Spirit Squad; what was causing him so much dejection was the fact that they had let a Runaway Spirit flee from the scene.

Everything was so perfect until he, posthumously, considered the fact that he did not give explicit commands for her to prep up, and that factor did not sit well with him at all. It was not an integral part in the conquest for Eiki's heart, but it might as well have been as important as the quit feature on his PFP. And yeah, his PFP. He hadn't had the time to play it, seeing as to how he had to pull off all-nighters throughout the entire capture just to keep up with the 24/7 system of the Sanzu, and his hands were now raring to have a go at the thing.

Well, that was if he could find another game somewhere in the backward lands of Gensokyo. Perhaps Kourindou had a stock of games that passed through the border? He would like to celebrate, right now, but Anatomy of Rose Bouquets was all he had, and he didn't want to touch the accursed thing. Yes, yes, maybe he should schedule a short visit before they look for the next target…

Wait a minute, that wasn't the issue, right now! He grimaced even harder as he strained to think, hopeless in his fatigue. Even if he had done longer all-nighters before, it had been with games, sitting down in a dark room where nothing could sap his energy away save for his intensive finger-to-button action. Never had he needed to menial work like this, where flower fields and stairs were actual obstacles he had to traverse through with his own body!

He was tired. Very, very tired, for a God of Conquest.

So tired, in fact, that the ten hours of back-to-back forced napping did little to dent the muscle aches around his body. Heh, that sounded like he contracted the illness Eiki's Runaway Spirit had inflicted on her. The poor Enma…

Not the issue right now.

Come on, stay on track.

He stroked his chin as he monologued.

Runaway Spirit, not captured. It could be anywhere in the Sanzu, right now. Still, Komachi's replacement may keep an eye on it, so I should be fine as long as it doesn't invade another girl's body. But if it's on the loose, then doesn't that mean, if it isn't captured once I'm done with all the other Spirits, Yukari won't take me back? Do I have to swim around the damn river to look for the thing? Gah, I don't know! Yukari hasn't appeared like I would've expected her to. Maybe she's watching from the distance…

Keima, propped on the beached boat, straightened up and scanned the surroundings around him. A bead of sweat tumbled down his face.

Or, maybe she's just hibernating.

He laid his back on the rigid wood.

Before he could continue his great pondering, Komachi touched down on the shore next to him. She had been sent to put Eiki's body back in her office, and so, naturally, was invisible- Keima could tell she was here by the sound of the grinding sand. He turned to watched as the Shinigami exited the hagoromo, and grimaced. She looked like she needed an explanation, judging by her disheveled countenance and the sudden eruption of eye-bags. She needed a very good explanation.

"So…" Komachi started, voice as in shock as the expression scrawled on her face, "The best buddy of the Runaway Spirit Squad, huh…?" Her free hand landed on the back of her head as she bashfully looked away. "And I thought love was too risky an option."

Keima sighed, a knowing look on his face. With quiet breath, he said to her, "Are you angry at me?"

"W-well, yeah… I'm mad. Didn't think you had the balls in you for doing a stunt like that. It's just… you didn't tell me."

"You would've killed me."

"I would've appreciated that you'd give me a heads up before you two… kissed." Her face flared into a fierce fire of red at the remembrance. "'Sides, are you seriously gonna try and use love on everyone?"

"Yup."

"You've… had experience?" Now, she began to stroll towards him, perhaps more comfortable with the thought. She gave a weak grin, a little joke to pair with her next line. "So you're a playboy, huh? Didn't think you've got it in ya."

Keima frowned. He then stood up, to her mild surprise, and looked her in the eyes with a glare. There was no excuse for the guess she had put out, and… Ugh, why was he going through all this again?

"Don't remind me of how I got into this." No one had told him how difficult it would be to, as Komachi aptly put it, 'forgive and forget' his first moments of employment. The first few weeks were gruelling to his existential sanity, even if he tossed his frustration around in gushing rants like an open faucet throughout all of it, but it wasn't false to say that the development didn't skew to begrudging acceptance, then full-on responsibility in the latter half of his exploits. That transition, however, never entered the zone of the blank slate, for a part of him still boiled a grudge over the blatant disregards of his first contact with Hell. Ignore the lack of any informed choices he wished he could have had, the fact that Hell didn't take the time to research his background as just a dedicated God of the GAL game was enough to spark forest fires in anyone's mind. He hoped his hissing did enough to keep the Shinigami quiet.

Komachi raised a brow, instead. With a grumble, he considered his options, and decided no secrets.

"Of course, I didn't have a choice." His hands felt the base of his neck, signaling to her all she needed to know.

"The collar?" Keima nodded in answer. "They… they're still using those? Damn, and here I was thinking someone would've petitioned them to stop using those."

He cleared his throat, pushing aside the topic of his ire, and, with his composure returned, he continued:

"Still, it was pretty damn idiotic of Hell to think a God of Games like me would be good enough to start swooning girls and such."

"Yeah, I guessed you failed the first few times, huh? I mean, I don't think video-games translate well into… anything, really…"

"If that had happened, then I would've been dead- and don't you dare look down on GAL games."

The mood thickened. Komachi pulled back the statement as fast as she pulled back whatever expression she had been making, then.

"So… You succeeded?" she questioned, reacting with surprise when he nodded an agreement to the scenario she'd proposed. Immediately her countenance reversed into that of full-blown shock, and she exclaimed, "Wow, and the first try! Heheh, m-maybe I shouldn't have doubted you, huh? Okay, I guess I trust you-"

"Twenty."

The sudden number drop forced a flinch from the shinigami, who, perhaps, had thought the topic to have ended. She turned to him, after having already looked away with an airiness of someone willing to start other chats, and, with a shaky voice, asked, "Wait, what?"

"I had to capture around twenty girls."

"Capture? W-wait," and now it was Keima's turn to flinch: the shinigami had rushed forward in her disbelief, and, just inches from his Enma-kissed face, frantically inquired him, "You actually got twenty girls to fall in love, with you of all people-?!"

She was cut short, though; Keima had pushed her away. The sudden invasion of his personal space had come as a surprise to him, and by reflex he had pushed her away.

"S-sorry…"

"Uh, n-no, I should've been… Twenty…"

"You can choose to believe it," he continued, sighing in the middle of a short pause before saying, "But if you want to work with me, you have to accept the fact that I'm gonna kiss… well, your friends. And please don't try to kill me. That would be very, very appreciated."

That last part, he added a bit of glower in his voice. That did the trick on the Shinigami, who reacted with her face morphing into that of a guilt-ridden kind. She looked down at Higan's sand, and began to think. Keima, like any gentleman in a galge, watched, silent.

After a short pause, she looked back up, and, much to his delight, nodded. "Sure, I-I guess… long as they forget."

"Good~" Keima smiled and patted both hands together as he praised her, though she could tell that he was just over-exaggerating to make her feel better. Still, he did find some satisfaction in this: after all, this was what it felt like to be the veteran in the field- not that Elsie, or Eri, now, was remotely the so-called Master to him, back when he started.

Ah, yes, before they moved on to other issues, he had one more thing to set straight.

"Now we should look at the issue of you forgetting to feed your replacement, and your ineptitude in preparations for the capture of the Spirit, even when Eiki had involuntarily given you ten hours to prepare."

Komachi's face lost all positive emotions.

"Eh?"

In the holy scriptures of old, there wrote the lost dialogues between Katsuragi Keima and Onozuka Komachi in the banks of Higan. The words that came out of his mouth could only be described as equal to the fury of the old Gods: a scolding that could scald the inner ears of those who were in its terrible path. Katsuragi's fatigue and breath had all but been restored by the vigor of that, and Onozuka would listen with unbearable earnest as he smitten her with his anger... (We have come to realize that 'smitten' can mean a VERY different thing than what the original writer of this excerpt wishes to convey. Due to our inability to care, please take it to mean the violent form of 'smite'. Thank you very much).

The day the Enma would hear of this was the day she would remark how it was, in the scope of her imagination, spectacular, of a level she would respect: a lecture of her caliber.

 **Never. Ever. Cross. A Fallen God**.

Katsuragi Keima made extra effort to be sure she would not forget that.

O - O - O - O

Moternaster Es Tsubakikins, on the other hand, watched as she waited for her call to be picked up. When someone on the other end of the receiver answered, she answered with:

"Please… get me the Memory Wiping Center… Let's just say all the Enma in the Ministry don't need to remember what just happened to me… Oh, and one more thing: book me a buffet. The Enma's on break today, and I'm starving…"

O - O - O - O

 _And thus we officially conclude the first Capture of the story! Yippee! Yippee! Thank you all for reading this far. The epilogue and next Capture of the story will come in a week, but to all who've favourited, followed and reviewed this story, I am so happy to have given you some enjoyment in your days. Thank you so much for giving this story a chance._

 _So, see you next week, then. Ciao~!_


	10. The Days March On

Shiomiya Shiori was the first to alight the train as its doors opened to let in the air of Suwa into its car, and she, shy as always, took refuge beside a pillar in the station to wait in fidgety stillness for her friends to come. The wind entering the station blew at her hair, and the knowledge that some stray strand could get in her eyes made her uncomfortable. Shiori didn't like the discomfort that would have brought, so she brushed them aside. It would have been pretty embarrassing if the others had come to find her in distress from a single piece of hair in her eye.

The holidays had never seen her go out that much. She would always come to the school library to read and rearrange their catalogue, instead, because that was how she had always spent her holidays. Her family rarely moved around, preferring to enjoy themselves in the avenues of entertainment in Maijima, such as the beach, or the city life- both far from what she would prefer- or, in the rare occasions, the insides of her house, and so the thoughts of exploring the world outside her library never came to quite this level of excitement, for Shiori. How her heart would beat with each passing station made her nerves wrack with fright as she began to dread the possibilities of an illness, and, even when her Goddess Minerva assured her of her safety, she couldn't help but continue fearing.

On the issue of why she was alone, well, that was due to the fact that, in the ensuing rush into the train that would take them to the far lands of the Nagano Prefecture, the six girls had separated, the crowd too much for them to handle. Shiori found herself alone, stranded. She did not bring herself to tears or panic, however, for she, and Minerva as well, reassured themselves that the others would not suddenly disappear into another place, and that they knew when to exit.

She felt how tired her arms were, and placed her bag down. It wasn't particularly heavy, because she'd never traveled before and forgotten to consider many necessities, and besides, she only had one day to pack. They only had a week to find Keima and bring him home- there would be no delays stopping them from doing so. The Goddesses and their hosts had to make sure of that. Her Goddess had to make sure she wouldn't get hurt. She just hoped nothing would come and break those promises.

A call from the distance turned her attention towards it. The other five had convened, and, having looked and found their last member, they were rushing with their luggage towards her. She opted to stay put, for the crowd between them still looked threateningly expansive, and before long they reached her, beckoning her to follow them to safety, but firstly an excursion in the city. She followed with few words spoken.

First, a hotel or inn before they go to find Chihiro. There were a few debates, but Shiori managed to slip in rather promising suggestions during the kerfuffle they had walking the streets. Having read about Suwa's many features in the library, and reminding herself what they were with a repeat of the readings- geographical, tourism, flora and fauna, etc.- she was well-versed with what affordable lodgings were around. They could have gone for Chihiro's place, but they had been booked out, with her and Keima's room being the last for the holiday.

In the end, they followed Yui's choice: a pricey place, close to where Chihiro had been staying. The wad of cash she pulled out was spectacular. Well, it was more like a wad of numbers and a credit card, but words can make vivid images, and it certainly did in Shiori's mind. They settled down, and set out to find Chihiro.

The matter concerning Keima's disappearance affected her deeply, even if she had lost much of her interest in him on account of how much he and his significant other worked together, as a couple: a study in semantics, a thematic ballad, a… a really romantic outcome, better than some of the romance novels she had read. Still she cared for him as he did for her and her problems, and so, alongside her Goddess, willingly obliged to the case.

Was it, perhaps, time for detective Shiori? Oh, she didn't know. She and Minerva could pull that out later.

"There's Chihiro!" Shiori heard Ayumi call, before the forward rush of the party got her moving. She tailed behind, a meek little shadow scuttling to catch up with the body.

She watched, quiet as always, as they spoke. Ayumi, Yui and Kanon were the loudest. She supposed it was to be expected: they were close friends through music. The first two had a band with Chihiro, and Kanon was there to support them, or so she inferred. The second one. She… inferred that. Not the former. Tenri gave her greetings, naturally, and Tsukiyo did her's as well, though she seemed much less inclined to speak, even if her self-confidence far exceeded Tenri's. Chihiro took both greetings warmly, and then noticed her, Shiori. She bowed as she greeted. She hoped it would curry her interest and not make antagonistic her intentions; because she was scared her shyness would be interpreted as anti-social tendencies, she had to exert herself. Also, who even remembers the librarian?

"Ah, you're the librarian, right? Haven't seen you in a while, huh."

Well, she supposed some people had good memory; but, other than that, she was happy that someone recognized her. With welcoming hand, she and her shook it off.

"So this is where you guys stayed," Ayumi remarked as she took off her shoes, jumping onto the raised floor and scanning the modestly-sized room even before any of the other six could take off theirs. Two beds, a television, a rice cooker on one corner, and windows the size of entire walls. The bathroom door was beside her, and at the scent of shampoo, she blushed, for the thought of the two sharing one single room together embarrassed her.

Yui was the second to let her feet touch the carpet. Her legs instinctively rubbed her soles on the fabric as she herself took in the sights. "Two beds?" she asked, noting the indents in both, and the careless tossing of the blanket on one, perhaps remnants of a panicking girl digging into the bed to catch her boyfriend from getting pulled into a dream, or something.

"Y'know, Chihiro," Yui began as she turned to the group entering with their footwear at the door, "You're taking this better than I, or any of us, would've thought. I mean, didn't you say he was sudden whisked away by some 'hole' from nowhere, right here, in this room?"

The girl in question chuckled nervously, and the group turned suspicious gazes towards her. "W-well, something happened. Once I explain it to you, then you'd understand, I guess."

Eyebrows raised. Tsukiyo interjected with a simple, "What happened?"

Then, to the Goddess-less girl's surprise, Tsukiyo's doll began to speak, her sullen voice booming in the room. She had known of the Goddesses, from fragments of her memories and such, but the experience was still far-flung from the real, and into the realm of the surreal, for her.

"Wait," Luna the doll, or, more precisely, Vulcan the Goddess, spoke to her sister Goddesses, a hint of shifting concern in her voice, "Do you notice that? The lack of something in the air of this room?"

Shiori, perhaps swayed by Minerva, frantically took out a small mirror from her pocket- just in the case of these situations- and let her little Goddess project on the screen. She, sheepishly, answered Vulcan's question with doubtful eagerness, "W-well, there's no magic in the room."

"Magic?" noted Chihiro, though her question fell to deaf ears as the others began their discussions.

Mars found herself using the television screen to speak her thoughts. "So what? Isn't that conflicting with the theory that magic was used to scoop Katsuragi away?"

"No, silly," Mercury drawled, appearing on the same surface as her sister just so she could knock her in the head- the hosts had rarely ever seen them on one place together, even when they have manifested in their host's bodies in the same room, multiple times before, "Oh, Mars, your magical affinity is still so much weaker than ours."

"T-then, what is it?"

"I can answer that~!" Apollo's voice echoed from the bathroom, specifically the mirror within, "As a medium, I can sense magic the strongest, so let's think about it: there's no magic in here, and, outside, there IS. You all felt it, right? Vulcan, Minerva, Mars, Mercury, Diana?"

Diana, whose name sounded to be the sole focus of her sister Apollo's listing, popped up on Tenri's reflection in the window. Rather relieved that she had the opportunity to speak to someone other than her host, she cleared her throat, and answered Apollo's rather specific inquiry. "There's a high concentration of magical residue in this city. My senses are pointing to-"

"That big lake in the center~" Apollo finished for her, much to her irritation, "So why won't this place have magic, at all? Could it have never gotten here, or could it have gone somewhere? Like that big hole that sucked Keima in?"

"Impossible," Mars mouthed, dumbstruck by the idea that had popped into her head, "Wouldn't that mean that his significant other would have been sucked in, as well?"

Chihiro added in the din of their discussions, "I… I didn't feel anything pulling me in. He just fell into it. It opened on the mattress, he fell in, and it closed…"

"So that may not be the answer…" Vulcan sighed.

Immediately, before they could continue on, Minerva spoke up in a hurry, "W-wait, w-what if the magic did get absorbed into the hole? L-like diffusion, or something. I-I read it in the library: how substances like g-gas move to places without it."

"Ah," Apollo's volume rose at the notion, "That could be true, true~ Residual magic usually flows everywhere, but it does rush into places devoid of it."

"So what you're telling us," one of the hosts, Tsukiyo, began, "Is that whatever this 'hole' Keima fell into has no magic?"

"Totally empty of it. If what we've been feeling walking around this place's the average level of residual magic, then sucking a room as big as this totally dry would mean someplace HUGE."

"Well, then, whatever else Chihiro has that she's not telling us may flesh things out."

Eyes turned towards her. Chihiro gulped at the graveness their eyes tossed to her. "W-well, I got this letter." She went to the side of the bed, where the cabinet was, and took it out. The moment she pulled it out was also the moment the entire room went quiet.

It was no simple letter. It was a scroll. An real, clearly ornamental ancient scroll. And on it, a retied ribbon.

"It came with this, too," she slid a seal out, and showed it.

The Goddesses- save for Apollo- gave a start at the sight.

"Is that…"

"Yes. The Seal of the Four Realms."

"What!? Let me see, let me see! I've never seen the Seal of the Four Realms before!"

"The mystery thickens. From faint memory, I presumed that the seal hasn't been used for three centuries."

"W-why, though? Why would Katsuragi be employed by a coalition between them? I-is this some Doomsday plot, l-like in the books!"

"Open the letter," Diana insisted, her voice silencing her sisters, and her gaze cold and sharp. The seven girls gulped, grimaced and swapped looks of doubt amongst each other.

What happened to Katsuragi Keima?

"Show us."

The scroll was passed around the hosts, and each one of them crinkled their brows together at the sight of its contents. It was gibberish, through and through. Strange symbols barely mimicking some sort of tangible alphabetical system stared back at them, and no one but the Goddesses could understand their message. Ayumi squinted and gave up in the span of a few seconds. Tenri cocked her head, but waited patiently for Diana to fully comprehend it. Kanon made the gibberish into some fantastical language. Shiori held on it the longest, as she tried to recall whatever fictional language could fit with the words she was looking at, but in the end, she came up empty, and passed the scroll to the next viewer. Tsukiyo tossed the thing aside, appalled by the sight, and Luna had to snatch it from the air and act as Vulcan's eyes to read the thing. And Yui…

"Oh, what is this?!" It wasn't Yui, but Mars, who exclaimed in rage at the thing. Suddenly, without warning, her host's arm threw the scroll to the wall, smacking it so hard that part of the paint bruised.

"O-oi, don't do that without warning, Mars!"

"Ah, s-sorry, but that doesn't matter in the face of this! This 'letter' of yours," she pointed a finger powerful enough to break swords at the limp thing on the floor, "Is just a simple cease and desist letter, a perfectly basic template New Hell sends to rebel Devils! There must be hundreds of copies of the same thing in their warehouses, or whatever they use to keep them!"

"Calm, sister Mars," pleaded Mercury in her droning voice, before her hands landed on her shoulders and shook her roughly out of the anger. "Did you even read the entire thing? Look at the signature."

As the sisters spoke, Shiori scuttled forward to take the scroll off the floor. When Mercury's last sentence entered her ears, she, presuming it to be the right course of action, unfurled it to show the room.

And, there, on the signature:

'The boy will return.'

"W-well," Ayumi was the first to speak, glancing at Chihiro as she did so, "I guess you being okay with it makes sense, now."

"That doesn't answer who took him." Eyes turned to Luna. "New Hell is brimming with magic, so Vintage or Satyr wouldn't fit; Heaven as well, and they usually like to do things their way, and the mortal realm is saturated with a small layer in every crevice. Nowhere in the realms is there a pocket empty of magic that could have done what Apollo proposed has happened in this room."

"Uh…" Now eyes turned to Ayumi, who was pointing up. "The… the moon?"

Everyone blinked.

"Er… how would the moon work, Ayumi?"

"Yeah, Keima can't breath up there!"

"U-um, m-maybe a space… suit?"

"Are you supposing that they also took a space suit? Wait, who would take him to the moon in the first place?!"

"Space…"

"Tenri, why do you sound so mesmerized by that?"

"No, no," Diana's voice intervened the commotion, "The Lunatic Kingdom would have no use for him, and they would definitely never send a letter written by Hell…"

"Besides, magic is still abundantly used, the last time I had any contact with them."

"Wait," Chihiro muttered, her eyes veering to the ground, "There's the concept of Hell and Heaven, Devils and Goddesses, and Ninjas and Ninja Magic, but now they're Moon People!?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Keima's lover," chided Apollo, "Those guys are out of the equation. They've got a good alibi, a reason not to get involved and all."

"Could it be that 'fourth realm' on the seal," Yui suggested.

"Oh," Tsukiyo agreed, "You all did miss that one."

"No way," shrugged Apollo, looking the least bit convinced, "That Witch of the Gap would never have any use of him."

"Now there are Witches, too?"

"Calm down, Kosaka. We understand that you are learning much, but please: we are in a deep discussion, here."

Chihiro sighed, and nodded solemnly. Being the only one without any connection to Divinity was starting to make her envious.

"Now, who else-"

"Wait!" Minerva spoke up, "W-what if the Gap Witch has a use for him?"

"And what would that use be?" Mars questioned back, curious leer growing on her countenance.

"Yes, she would never let anyone, much less Katsuragi, into her abode. Do you remember when we tried to ask her for help all those years back? If so, then you must understand the kind of creature she is, Minerva."

"W-well, Diana, t-there's never been reports of how her 'Eastern Wonderland' works. W-what if-?"

Much to the group's surprise, the sudden ringing of the doorbell broke their conference in twine. And they were getting somewhere, as well! The Goddesses conveyed varying degrees of annoyance at the furnishing, much to the embarrassment of their hosts, and Chihiro, made further uncomfortable by their slowly-increasing wrath, quickly answered the door.

Feet tapped on the floor. Hands scratched the back of necks. Bodies swayed in the wait. None of them followed human nerves and muscle.

Ayumi's lips fluctuated around, rising and lowering as it reacted to the unsung thoughts swimming in her mind.

Kanon hid beneath the sheets. The reaction of any ordinary superstar having come back from a short tour overseas.

Yui frowned and glanced at the spaces between the beds.

Tsukiyo held onto Luna, and rested her chin on its head.

Shiori turned her mirror, and looked at the eager Minerva, wondering as to what she wanted to say. Without a second thought, she stored the mirror away, afraid that someone may enter.

Tenri waited patiently.

The sound of the door closing signaled them to prepare their brainstorming, but, before they could confirm that no one was entering, Chihiro's voice echoed through:

"I… I think they sent us another letter."

The entire room stopped moving.

"They said it was from some foreigner-looking woman. I don't really know anyone like that, so… I'll open it."

"Does it have the Seal?" Vulcan questioned with frantic breath, her suddenness making the other Goddesses hold their tongues. Their hosts, on the other hand, crowded round her to peek into the new letter.

"N-no. It's not a scroll, this time, though. It's a real letter. Let me…" She plucked the thing open. "Okay, I'll read it aloud."

"If it's Hellian, then you might now-"

"Wait… This is Japanese. But there's only a few lines!"

Eyes widened.

"Say it."

Diana beckoned, her body shivering for some reason unknown to them.

"Read what's inside."

Chihiro grimaced at what she hoped was not bad news, and promptly began, the eyes of six others vying for the same piece of paper that she held.

"We… of Hell,"

That sounded familiar to the Goddesses. Too familiar.

"They of Heaven,"

Someone gasped. No one checked who it was.

"Them of Humanity,"

"Well, wake me up when you guys need me."

"And I, of the Gap…"

Chihiro gulped at the last stanza.

"Is that enough for you Goddesses to start looking?"

O - O - O - O

The Ministry of Right and Wrong found itself in a dense, tar-like slog of a work flow, as always. Those who aged beyond a century- centennials and the mythical kind, mostly- were allocated for the judging systems of the Enma, as not only were New Hell's systems straining under the weight of the cruel world above, they also could not make fair and accurate judgements to those with long histories- in essence, long lives. Knowing the rarity of humans that decrepit, and the even rarer chance of many passing away in one flip of the coin, each passing day was filled with nothing but report writing and breakroom talks for the Enma. That was the downward trend most of the Enma experienced for the past three hundred years, their bodies morphing into lazy balls of meat and judging prowess gone stale, almost losing the lustre and replacing it with disinterest with the cases of yesteryear, and the changing times looked to have forgotten them and their massive undertakings before the rise of Almage-Machina: how they would judge hundreds of thousands, how the Sanzu would be alive with ships, and how the docks would be packed with the grieving, the accepting, or the protesting.

That all eluded Shiki Eiki, the little Enma walking down the stairs to her courtroom, whom, throughout that span of time, made herself busy with a little location erased off the maps of the world, called Gensokyo. Everyone who lost their lives within the barrier would, without fail, come to the Sanzu, and meet her in her vocational space. And today, like any day in the Ministry of Right and Wrong, she was finding herself swamped with the rush of souls to be judged. Where so many came from, she did not know, and she was suspecting her ferryman to have gone lazy during one period of time- one which, much to her annoyance, she had problem remembering. But that was no excuse for her to slack off. She had to rush, rush, rush, and complete what she was set out to do. It was her duty, after all.

Someone was waiting for her by her courtroom as she finished climbing the stairs. With a frown, and an angry snort to boot, she came upon the stranger with discipline.

"Moternaster, I would have expected a Chair Devil-turned ferryman like you to be taking your responsibilities outside, ferrying more souls into Higan," she greeted in her usual callousness, and as expected it gained the amused look of the Devil with the rose-gold head of hair.

"Ah, there you are," the abnormally thin Moternaster (was she like this, before?) replied, a friendly nonchalance in her smile, "Just making sure you're okay, Eiki."

Shiki gave a friendly scoff in acknowledgement of her appreciation, but she nonetheless found herself peeved: the ferryman had a job to do, and that job was not to come here and make the souls wait. She prepared to shoo her away with polite words of wisdom, but before she could do so, the ferryman asked her:

"So… It's been a few days since I've been working with you. You miss your old ferryman, yet?"

Eiki cocked her head to the side. It was an innocent question, something to be expected between two old friends, and yet it silenced the Enma and made her consider her answer.

"I… suppose I do…" she muttered in reply, a hand propping her chin. "But what does that have to do with work?"

"W-well," Moternaster scratched a nervous itch on her own chin, "I'd have presumed a ferryman and Emma's relationship is... how should I say it, stronger than the usual duo?"

She flinched upon feeling the jab of the little Eiki's glare. The judging, however, came and went, and Eiki turned away to contemplate the newfound context she had been presented. "She is a precious friend of mine- no matter how lazy she is…" the latter half she whispered with spite, "But I have a remedy for that."

"Oh," emitted the ferryman, a look of great interest in her face, "And what would that be?"

"Tea."

"Oh…"

"And…" Shiki added before she looked away, seeming strained to reminisce something in her mind, "And what? Hmm, I can't remember-"

"M-maybe a visit every once in a while?!" Moternaster cut her off, excited and rushed for words. Eiki drew a cautious leer at her friend, her occupation asking for no mercy from her when it came to dealing with her subordinates, but, after a moment of silence and meeting eyes, she sighed, and shook her head in disagreement.

"I'm a bit tired of seeing my ferrymen all the time. Perhaps a nap during my break is the right answer."

And with that, the two nodded their condolences and departed to their own paths. Shiki, with a smile on her face, longed for the courtroom. Why she felt this 'longing', she did not know, but that was not going to stop her from doing her duty.

"Let the trial be in session. I will be your Enma in this passing, Mister… Katsu…"

She couldn't bear the redness of her face. Eiki called for a break.

O - O - O - O

Moternaster, upon returning to her boat, pushed it out to the Sanzu, boarded it, and began to sail back to where she was posted in. It was a simple process, a habitual repetition that she would have to do every day for the next few weeks or so, until all was done, and the pair in the Runaway Spirit Squad was done with their tasks. This time, though, she added one last step to it. Pulling at a piece of her hagoromo, which she had brought with her for good measure and reason, she formed what looked to be a phone-like device, and began speaking into it.

"Hey, Onozuka, it's me, Moternaster," she said, her voice loud and clear for the other end to hear, "Got a report to give to Katsuragi."

Onozuka Komachi, the ferryman replaced by Moternaster, pouted as the news funneled into her side of the hagoromo. She squinted and pushed the receiver end of the hagoromo deeper into her ear just to hear it properly above the wind, its whipping contesting the transmission. A grumble escaped her throat.

"Why can't you just relay it to me?! I'm the one carrying the guy out of the Sanzu!" she protested, but then felt her hagoromo get pulled to the side. Katsuragi Keima, hanging on to her two arms, with the wind whipping his face, breasts pushing down his hair, and body parallel to the scythe right beneath him, put the screen-like hagoromo on the side of his face, and began his series of questions.

"So, how is she?"

"Shouldn't I be asking that-"

"Quiet, do you want us to crash or something, Shinigami who couldn't even prepare a bottle-!"

"Hey, guys, chill," interrupted Moternaster before she answered his question. "Shiki's fine. She's getting back on the workflow, and she… well, looks like she doesn't care about Komachi not being here, anymore."

"She's forgotten everything?"

"Yeah. Can't even remember whether or not she was in bed or in the courtroom throughout whatever you guys were doing."

"And… well, what about the Runaway Spirit?"

Moternaster chuckled into the receiver, before the sound of wood beaching on the dirt reached his ears. "I'll keep an eye on it. Runaway Spirits don't really travel too far once they're out. They're too weak to do much."

Keima and Komachi both sighed in relief at the news, before the Ferryman's voice interjected their moment of respite:

"Don't concern yourselves with the Sanzu anymore, both of you," Moternaster continued, pausing to bicker with one of her passengers-to-be, "I, uh, ain't exactly a pushover when it comes to ferrying and catching Runaway Spirits."

"Okay. That'll be all," the blunt Keima rescinded his part in the conversation, and Komachi, noticing his silence, popped a smirk before she did the same.

"Take care of Eiki, Tsubakikins."

"Don't have to tell me twice. See you guys." And thus, the broadcast ended.

Keima had absolutely no idea as to why the Chair Devil would even forgive them for confining, and forgetting, her in a Detention bottle for such a prolonged period of time, but for now he was relieved that Shiki was fine, and that they weren't going to be penalized for anything. Komachi shared the same thoughts, though hers were a bit more personal, seeing how she was the one doing all the kidnapping, and such. In any case, the fact that they were leaving unscathed made for all the more convenience and time-save. All that they had to focus on now was the next step in this wild, nonsensical ride.

"Takes a while," she began to speak to the sack of meat in her arms, "For us to get to Gensokyo, especially since you're weighing me down."

"Okay," Keima replied with little fanfare. As they ascended through the gloom that was the fog of Hell's surface, he began to brace himself for the blinding sunlight and the coming freshness of oxygen. The Sanzu had been a very musty place, save for the Ministry, and he was afraid the overwhelming dissonance stemming from his body's adaption to the Underworld would cause him to go rather numb. Muscles tensed, and his eyes shrunk with his closing eyelids.

"So… Katsuragi?"

"Y-yeah?"

Why was she talking at a time like this?

"You've never failed a romance before, r-right?"

"Are you questioning God?"

Komachi blew hot air at the riposting question, "Tell that to the actual Gods~ But seriously, if you're that good, do you have, like, an actual girlfriend, or something?"

After a short period of silence, it was Komachi herself who answered, perhaps rather ashamed of asking the question, or too intolerant to the thickening awkwardness forming between them. "N-never mind, I'm sorry I-"

"Yeah. I do."

Komachi looked down, to see his face half-covered by her chest and clothes. Her eyes, sure with surprise, never met his own pair.

"R-really?"

"Kosaka. Kosaka Chihiro. That's her name."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't just say her name all lackadaisical, like that, 'specially to a Shinigami! You don't wanna curse her to meet me when she dies, would ya?!"

Keima pushed his glasses up, and stared forward, past her eyes, and into what was a growing illuminance in the distance. "Well, let's just say that I think, with your kind of character, knowing that there's a named person waiting for me might make you work a bit harder."

Komachi, caught off-guard by the reason, stared back at him for a moment, stunned. She swore she felt hot in the cheeks when the compliment waltzed out of his tongue. Still, that didn't stop her from appreciating the snark, and she snickered, before the rising air in her lungs grew too much and she had to laugh. The wizened centuries-old Shinigami, having lived long enough to at least infer from the dialogue of youngsters, found his speech absolutely comedic, yet doubly charming. To think that someone who would woo and kiss girls left and right had some tact and dedication in him to move on from each one, and yet hunker down with the special girl.

Once the harrumph of her laughter died down, she asked, with genuine curiosity in her voice, "She one of your 'captures'?" It was the last question, she promised, and she shot him a grin to prove it; for no one would want to wipe a smirk of this value off her face, not even herself.

Keima nodded as he answered, "Yeah."

"What got you interested in her~?" Ah, look what she did. Forgetting her promise and all~ But it was so tempting.

"She… surprises me."

"What? And all the other girls don't?"

"A conquest's surprises, twists and turns and the events that a girl gives you in a real relationship are two very different things."

"Yeah, sure. See if I'll believe you, playboy."

"Don't just think I don't actually love Chihiro, you old hag!"

"Want me to drop you?" she asked with her grin still in place.

That was the actual last question, for when she brought up the threat, he drew back into his usual, meditative-like silence, ending whatever they had conversation-wise. Komachi sighed, rolled her eyes, and looked up. The bright star in the sky grew into a great lamp as it bathed every inch of their body facing it with illuminating incandescence, of colors of all gradients.

A part of her still lurked undecided on the issue she had with the boy touching lips with her Enma, but, guaranteed that she was fine and forgotten, the thoughts did not disturb her as much as she had once thought. In fact, it had become but a distance, one-day old memory, now, for she, wise as ever, had pushed past that contingency in her job, and veered her eyes to the positives. Her post was manned by a capable Devil, Eiki was fine- she, embarrassing to say, was not 'missing' Komachi to death- and this boy she had right here, this husk that, to the blind, resembled too much a thing lacking empathy, sympathy, or even a little bit of libido- owing to his inaction upon being touched so much (she chocked that up to all that freezing from the bodily contact, because come on, he hated her touching him before, why not now?)- was getting her slightly excited. What else was to come, she did not know, but, knowing that it would not involve her actually ferrying people like she did before, she was sure it was going to be a strangely unique, and rather idle, experience. For all those people going to get their hearts stolen, she was going to watch it all in deep fascination and hope she wasn't lobbing heads out of obligation. Well, fascination in that she would be in raging disbelief from the coming facts an eighteen-year old was able to basically get a thousand-year old youkai to, at that point, marry him. Because youkai do not look for, or accept lovers, so quickly.

Keima, on the other hand, after some inner evaluation of his situation, grimaced. He had already burnt through a few days capturing Eiki's heart: the concerns of the world he had left began to sink in, at a time when he could do nothing but idly feel the wind in his face and the pillows, which he felt no sensation for, on the top of his head. How was Chihiro, now? Was there a way for him to send her something, anything? What was his family thinking about his disappearance. Knowing them, they would never attribute Chihiro for it. The Goddesses? He was sure that Chihiro would have called them to investigate. The thought that so many people would worry for him turned him miserable with dismay. Funny. Just two years ago, if he had realized that, he wouldn't have cared.

His first detour in life, with those ninjas in Tokyo, made him miss Chihiro. This time, though, Eiki made him realize how much he should have missed her then and now.

He stopped thinking, for the bright of the outside was starting to shine. Komachi crested over the hole, and, to his surprise, in front of them laid a road of stalls, bustling with a life even he couldn't expect. Humanoid people mixed with strange beings and floating spirits, in some strange harmony amongst each other.

"The Road of Liminality!"

Komachi announced to him as she flew higher, and higher, till the air grew noticeably cold and the clouds seemed almost reachable by way of ladder. It was only by his gaze turning up towards her that he noticed the great mass she was climbing. A vast stone, higher than he had ever seen, towered beside them. As the stalls disappeared into little specks, she crested over the mountain.

And there it was, greeting him with the light and the marvel of 3D, its air a gift for having come into its untouched wilderness.

"Like the view?" Komachi asked, herself scanning the horizon with him, proud of herself for showing some outsider his first glimpse of a Paradise beyond. She felt his hair rub on her chest as he nodded.

"Yeah. It's pretty interesting, for 3D."

Gensokyo caressed his breath on its arms.

O - O - O - O

None who resided in Gensokyo would forget a little store somewhere in the outskirts of the Forest of Magic, housing not only wares but also its owners. Kourindou was the name, and one would recognize it almost immediately the moment they spot it in between the trees; whether in Spring or Winter, clear or covered with blankets of snow, the store was unlike what anyone in the Human Village had ever seen. Underneath the layers laid the foundation of a normal wooden building, like any in the Village some distance away, but covering it, like the armor of great men in centuries past, were strange, towering ornaments and devices considered alien by the denizens of Gensokyo. Kourindou was no store for the ordinary. Its shopkeeper was a scrounger for Outside World items, of any kind, of all varieties, and of all trades and uses. Of course, that was if Morichika Rinnosuke could ever learn to use them. He never liked considering his business to be a failure. Not many came, threatened by his strange heritage of half-man, half-youkai, and by the equally threatening oddities he had surrounded himself with. A silly fear, but he supposed it was harmless, in its own way. He liked it quiet, in some days, where he would be allowed the time to ponder of those strange inventions that passed through the Hakurei Border and into his sights. Vast quantities of the stuff laid strewn in neat, yet labyrinthian order around him, that it would not be an unfair judgement if someone came and called him a hoarder. Would he consider himself a hoarder, though? No, not really. He would have liked it if he was considered a shopkeeper first, and a man with an eye for curiosities second, but a 'hoarder'? It was… how should he say, a bit strong for him.

Rinnosuke scratched an itch hidden beneath his silver hair. Today's traffic had been, to his non-surprise, the usual fare: the ordinary magician passed by to say hello, twice; the tengu dumped her new issue of papers for the day; the maid of the Scarlet Devil bought a case of ornate wine glasses, and a young man with glasses- rare for Gensokyo- was now browsing his storeroom for whatever he had insisted he wanted.

Wait, that wasn't what usually happened every day. Well, the Grand Prix he hosted, and won last year, was also pretty unusual for his schedule, but this? The boy, looking to be almost twenty, but gave off the air of a wizened adult, a strange, confident attribute in a land where Humans would never dare don in front of Youkai. He had been at the back, scanning round his storeroom for quite a while now, and Rinnosuke, slowly sinking into doubt, was still stationed at the counter, hands ready for the barcode scanner he'd salvaged a few years back and had begun using- a good way of showing people which of his products were on sale were if he'd even placed a barcode sticker on them. What this stranger- no, new customer- was looking for vexed him greatly, for the only thing he demanded was that he browsed his wares at the back of the store. He had allowed it, at first, but now he was rather suspicious.

Could he be stealing his wares behind his back? Did he break a hole in the wall just so he could pass the smaller trinkets he kept behind the store to some thieves he had collogued with? It was… possible. He'd heard of many a Youkai from his acquaintances, with the one spooking his shopkeeper spirit the most being the Hermit who could create holes through any surface.

The suspicions did not leave him easily, and, when the trees rustled from the afternoon wind, he stood up from his seat as a result. Rushing to the door of his storeroom, he pushed it opened, and shouted, into the musty, dusty place:

"Hey, if I find you stealing anything, I'll-!"

Katsuragi Keima paused his game, and gave him a pout in response.

Invisible Onozuka Komachi scooted away to places much less cluttered.

Rinnosuke's indignation slipped away.

"Oi, I was gonna finish up on Mai's route, Mister Shopkeep. Shoo, shoo."

O - O - O -O

"It's pretty rare for an outsider to actually be here, buying things from me," Rinnosuke explained as he received the money from Keima, before pushing the strange disk and cartridge cases towards his customer, "Usually, outsiders keep to themselves. And, honestly, I'd keep most of my wares for myself, but, seeing how you have the tools to use these, I'm fine with selling them away. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for these…"

He squinted his eyes into focus. "Physical game copies, in the future, Mister…"

"Katsuragi," was the reply as his customer took the products into his arms.

"Mister Katsuragi. Pleasure doing business with you."

"No, no, no: thank you. I would've died without these~"

Rinnosuke scoffed at the youngster's energy and strange priorities. The Outside World really did make strange and eccentric fellows. Honestly, he'd already have his hands full of another, so this sudden appearance was much of a surprise to him. Before he could sit back down and meditate the day away, though, someone called his name. He couldn't answer, as a flying coin gave him a great start, and he had no choice but to catch it as it flew to him.

"I'll be taking the newspaper, too."

He looked at the coin in his hand, and then the door, watching it close as the boy finally left his world. The little newspaper stand, a nice Outside World antique which he'd found, had a missing paper.

Rinnosuke, sighing, followed up with a deadpanned expression. "Maybe I should've told him to keep the door open."

O - O - O - O

"Did we seriously visit Kourindou just to look for games?"

Komachi grumbled as she strolled beside the game-centric character, her hagoromo having found refuge around the propped handle of her scythe. The two had just touched down on Gensokyo when the boy collapsed out of fatigue. She had thought that it was just his body being too accustomed to the realm of the dead, but, after a bit more inquiry and pained screaming from the boy, she realized that he was… much more than meets the eye.

 _This damn guy's an addict!_

He was suffering from withdrawal. Yes, withdrawal from not having laid hands on a single noteworthy game in close to a week. She couldn't really doubt him much or lose faith in him, seeing as to how he at least was an experienced buddy with proof of his implied record, but she had hoped that he would have enforced his priorities, rather than toss them aside for some meagre plaything. If she were Eiki, then she would have grilled him dry. Right now, in this very moment, she was already considering throwing his console away just to snap him out of his infatuation.

"Oh hohoho~" Keima chuckled to himself, earning a look of disgust from the Shinigami that did little to faze him, "How nice for that guy to have found the PFP remake of 'Treasured Hearts'! Oh, it brings me so much nostalgia! I played the original almost six years ago, and the quality of it was great! But the remake's even better!"

"I don't care…" Komachi simply said. Suddenly, spurred by the agony of boredom and progress, she rushed to his front, stopping him in his tracks, and confronted him with a frown on her face, "Shouldn't we be focusing on other things, other than a silly game?"

"Oi," Keima rebuked, "My old Devil Partners would never stop me from playing a game, so don't you **dare**!"

"Don't you wanna go back to the Outside world?!" she jolted forward in retaliation, startling the gamer. "To go back to Kosaka, your 'one true love'? So how about you stop playing your games and-!"

Keima's outrage quickly expired at her concerns. He sighed, unimpressed by her vehemence, before he bopped her head with the rolled up newspaper.

"Stop panicking." He pushed his weapon onto her, much to her discombobulated bafflement. "Read the papers, then come back to me with leads for the next Spirit." As he geared himself to continue on with his digital conquest, his mind began to think.

 _Gensokyo is pretty big, surprising enough- though, then again, the games don't really go the distance when it comes to portraying the place on a one-one ratio- and that presents us with a pretty big problem. I can't just visit everyone and check whether or not they have a Spirit: that'll take too much time, and who knows whose Spirit's has more progress in taking over their victims._

 _Gah, if that Gap Hag had given me a nice, neat list, then I wouldn't have to worry about all this!_

 _I could go and find the very Shrine Maiden who keeps the peace, Hakurei Reimu (that is, if she does exist, and she wasn't some original character put into the games), but, if Gensokyo is a mix of the fanon and canon, then she wouldn't even be much help. There would be nothing that would interest her, and, knowing how crude she can be, she wouldn't be helping anyone. I guess she'd help for a donation, but even then, she'd be an obstacle to my capturing methods._

 _I considered Hakugyokurou, because I assumed that Yuyuko and, or, Youmu could help us detect them, but what if they can't? There's also that chance that they wouldn't even accept my plea for help, in the first place._

 _Now, though? Well, if I, a foreigner in this world, can't find out who's the highest priority target…_

He snuck a glance at the reading shinigami. More specifically, at the unfurled newspaper.

His thoughts escaped out his tongue with a whisper.

"Then that damn Crow Tengu would."

 _Tengu on Alert as Negotiations_

 _Between Moriya Continue:_

 _Goddess Turning Desperate?_

"The headline…" Komachi looked up from the papers, "You're not thinking that there's a Runaway Spirit up in the Moriya Shine?"

"Where is that?" Keima inquired before she could continue. Of course, he knew the answer, but he might as well continue with the façade.

Komachi gulped, audible enough for him to hear, before she answered in a mutter, "It's up Youkai Mountain- which is stupid enough, cos what's where we just came out of. But that wouldn't make sense: the shrine has two Gods, how wouldn't they have noticed?"

Keima brandished his PFP as he rolled his shoulders and wrist. Something interesting had just been uttered. Perhaps Gensokyo's Gods weren't sensitive to Runaway Spirits, or something of the sorts. Well, that wouldn't hinder him in anything.

He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

"Then we'll just go up," he paused to look away from his game.

"And notice it for them."

O - O - O - O

 _And the second capture begins! Let's go, boys and girls on another great adventure. I'm so happy that this story's first arc is getting such a great welcome, and I hope to keep satisfying all of you. Thank you for reading this new chapter, I hope you stay tuned for the next!_


	11. Beyond Youkai Mountain

Inubashiri Momiji sighed as she ruffled her snowy hair, disappointed once again that her friend, the Crow Tengu Shameimaru Aya, was late. Her shift hours had come, and she could not delay: so, with little remorse, she left her friend's house, and soared away at breakneck speeds, never bothering to look back and, perhaps, catch the sight of said friend return home at exactly the same time.

It had been one of those days. She, the Crow Tengu, had printed far too many copies of her newspaper 'by accident', and, wanting to deliver it to all walks of life as a 'free sample', she had convinced her to watch the home and ward off intruders till she returned. Momiji did not particularly like that tactic, owing to how it was usually her that the Crow Tengu would rely upon, which meant that her break hours were not being used to their fullest extent, but what could she do? Aya was far too good at negotiations, and she herself was never the type of person to say no, lest the requests be from Outsiders to the Village, so, in the event when she came to ask for her help, she hadn't the heart to not oblige.

It wasn't long before she reached the usual spot where she stood, when she wasn't roosting around the Waterfall of Nine Heavens: it was a nice little jutting of stone, that survived the rains and wind and looked much like a cresting wave in the sky, situated on the high tops of Youkai Mountain far above the Great Youkai Forest and clear on all directions. She landed with a silent tip-toe, and, now donning a face of diligence, went to her work of observing the autumn-hued mountain.

Still, even with this diligent face of her's, she could not stop thinking about what was happening within the higher order of Tengu society. She wasn't there when it happened, be it that her shift had been far from over, but those of the village, and the other Wolf Tengu close enough to Lord Tenma's abode to hear, had told her of how detrimental it was to the Tengu's relations with those higher up the mountain. Whatever it was, she hoped it would not be too much for both parties. In the worst-case scenario, it would mean forced eviction…

Her nose wiggled. She picked up something in the air. A scent, unlike that of the forest. And it was… close?

An intruder?

Strange. The last shift should have picked it up before her- heck, they should have seen said trespasser in this distance.

In any case, now was not the time for pondering. Unsheathing her sword and shield from behind her back, she rose to the air, and flew down the mountainside, to where the scent was strongest.

She entered a small clearing between the trunk of the trees. A little sniff, and she picked up the musty scent of old, barren soil. Nothing smelled like this, in this level of Youkai Mountain. Was something here? Momiji checked her surroundings for the scent's elusive source, but found nothing.

Could it be… She was starting to lose her-? No, she thought to herself as her grip tightened around her blade handle and shield strap, _I just have to follow this scent._

Her lupine ears stood up, and she went to work. Sniffing the air, hearing the sound of the trees, and watching to see if the leaves, the stones, the individual grains of dirt, would move.

Silence.

And then-

Her blade fell with a clang. She shot out an open palm to the trees. Air made contact with her. No, with something tangible! She could clearly feel something there! Grabbing onto it, she pulled, with all her might, a loud yell escaping her mouth! This thing, this invisible thing, was not getting away!

Katsuragi Keima popped out of Komachi's hagoromo.

She gave a cry of surprise at the sudden appearance of the man as she let go of the man's yukata, inadvertently sending him rolling onto the center of the clearing. Momiji stared at the limp body, dumbstruck. She **was** correct! With trained fleet of hands she took up her blade, and, without another thought, rushed towards him, intending to pin him down and interrogate him of whatever he was here for. She could see, he was trying to get up. No time, she raised her weapon and aimed the butt of her blade-

"DO YOU WISH TO HIT A GOD!?"

Momiji halted.

Huh?

HUUUUUUUUUH?

"Wait…" Momiji muttered as she lowered, but still readied her blade, her eyes wary as she looked at the supposed 'God', "You're a God?"

"Y-yes, I am! The God of Conquest!"

God… of Conquest? What, a war God? Weren't those exceedingly elusive, now? And why would one be scaling Youkai Mountain, invisible? Was it to avoid detection from them, the Tengu, and ascend to Heaven? She had to be careful with these. War Gods were said to have awesome abilities of combat and logistics, so if he were to go all out against her, even with danmaku, then she wasn't sure if she would win even with the aid of the other Wolves.

Well, that was, if, he wasn't a lying human trying to wriggle his way out of danger.

She readied her poise as she gave out her signature warning to all the trespassers of the mountain: "None are to trespass the lands of the Tengu. Either you turn tail and go no further, or you face the wrath of the denizens of the Mountain."

"I wish to go further!" He answered without a second to pause, crossing his legs and planting himself firm on the floor.

Momiji pouted and puffed her cheeks. Brazen fools were the hardest to work with, especially those with personalities like his.

"Well," she began to explain with vengeful indifference, her annoyance having seeped into her tone, "You could have used the Moriya Ropeway to bypass Tengu lands, but, as you might have noticed, it is closed for the time being."

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated, letting it roll in her mouth. "Well, there are… issues, with the Moriya Shrine and the Tengu. We have closed off access to it, until… well, an indeterminate time. So please, see yourself out of this forest, or I will be obliged to force you out."

A breeze from the distance blew through the trees. Momiji stood firm in all areas, waiting for her next answer. If he were to fight, then she would have to call for the other Wolf Tengu. Because only a war God would be willing to fight her, as opposed to an unarmed human.

The man's face grew grim as he looked down to consider.

"Look, I can't wait all-"

"Shogi."

Momiji held her tongue. A baffled look casted upon her face. Her eyes narrowed, and she asked, cautiously, "What did you say?"

"A game…"

Suddenly, a board appeared from a sudden poof of smoke in front of him.

"...of Shogi."

He clapped, much to the surprise of her ears. With a pose reminiscent of some praying monk, he pleaded to her with a vigor much unwanted by the wolf tengu, declaring into the winds: "If you win, then I will leave this place! If I win, then I will have unimpeded access up the mountain!"

"Oi, oi! Don't yell so loudly! What reason do you even have for coming up here?!"

A moment of silence. Then, he glanced at her. She flinched at those resolute eyes.

"The Moriya Shrine."

The Wolf Tengu glared. The… the Moriya Shrine, he said, and she'd first thought that he was trying to get up to Heaven. Why would a God visit another God, especially one of war visiting one of the wind and rain. What, was he hoping for a sudden downpour during one of his battles? Was that it?

Momiji began to consider the God's new proposition. He was asking her to have a single match of Shogi, a game she had been playing since her early childhood hundreds of years ago, between hundreds of opponents, from Tengu, to Kappa, to just masters bordering the line between mortality and Godhood. No matter the angle you looked at, this guy here was asking for far too much. Not from her, but himself. Wolf Tengu were renowned all around Gensokyo for their mastery of the ancient board game, so for someone to challenge them so confidently, and with such resolve, made the heritage within her boil.

"O-okay…" she agreed, shrugging off the hesitance in her voice from her actions, before she placed down her sword and shield and lowered herself to a comfortable sitting position on the ground. She hoped no one else was climbing up Youkai Mountain, by this point. "I will play."

The shogi pieces were all laid out, and each side had the standard number and type of pieces. Playing on a level playing field, he was, and Momiji could only scoff at the thought.

She bared her lustrous fangs beneath the canopy shadows.

"You'll regret this."

She moved her first piece. That piece, she concluded, will be the one winning her this match.

Most matches lasted thirty minutes. Heh, she was going to finish this in half that time.

She did, actually. In fact, she finished it in one-seventh of the time. A completely-one sided affair.

"Checkmate."

Momiji lost in four minutes.

The Wolf Tengu's snout snapped open.

The God pulled his hand away, and looked up from the board to stare at her. The moment her eyes met his, he smiled. The man was absolutely **disgusting**.

H-had she made a mistake with one of her moves? W-was it her game plan that was faulty? No matter the reason, she couldn't comprehend how she could **lose**. Cold sweat tumbled down her face as she stared at the sorry state of her side of the board.

"Humph," God scoffed, pointing his nose high and mighty into the air, "I have beaten hundreds of master Shogi players (including a 3D one); how would a dog like you EVER defeat me?"

W-what? Master Shogi players?

Oh no, a war God playing Shogi? A war God playing simulated battle.

War Gods were masters of logistics.

If war Gods were good at commanding hundreds of troops through actual battlefields, then… Oh no, she should have realized it sooner. War Gods are literally pre-programmed to playing shogi. How did she not **realize** it **sooner**!?!?!? The hundreds of master Shogi players he referred to were real life generals and other war Gods! She was **sooooooooo** stupid!!

 _I was never in the position to win._

Standing on trembling legs, she gave her hesitant curtsy of surrender to the overwhelming presence still sitting on the floor, and, teary-eyed, she uttered, "Y-you may pass, G-God of Conquest…"

The Shogi board popped out of existence. The God of Conquest rose from his spot, spectacles glinting in the light peering at them through the canopy.

"You have delayed my journey," he said, voice hollow, an impersonal apparition to the Wolf Tengu, "Pray you do not delay it any further."

And thus, he leapt into the air, fell a short distance till he almost touched the ground, and then swooped upward into the sky.

Strange things happen in Gensokyo. Broken seasons, red mist, fake moons, flying boats, flying people, and so much more. Momiji had seen enough of it for her to find little surprise in anything else, but today, though? She was starting to doubt her capacity of common sense.

 _I wanna… I should take this to Aya…_

She collapsed onto her knees.

 _But I don't want her to know my SHAAAAAAME!_

O - O - O - O

"You nearly didn't catch me."

"That's the least of your worries, 'sides, I wasn't expectin' you to try and act like you can fly, much less you suddenly jumping all superhero-like!"

Two mouths grumbled as the mountain air parted from their path. Keima, looking up as high as his head could tilt, waited in anticipation for the peak of the mountain to reach his view. Komachi, on the other hand, grimaced over what she'd just seen, confused and befuddled over what to do with what she'd just seen, but then she began to scoff, the idea morphing into something humorous in the Shinigami's mind.

"You're lucky that it was me who got caught, Onozuka," Keima stated in a low mutter, clearly irritated by the obstacle he had to deal with. Komachi, on the other hand, fell into a giggle.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for protecting me, my prince~" the Shinigami joked through her vixenish smile, before she flew higher in altitude till they passed where the forest stopped reaching, and the large rocky cliff sides began encapsulating all that they could see. "Anyways, the place is close, so wait just a bit. We couldn't fly before, cos the hagoromo just couldn't deal with me speeding up so fast and cloaking us both at the same time, but now, with you in the clear, and the hagoromo not slipping, anymore, I can reach the shrine in a minute."

The boy gave a respectful nod in response, before he went silent to contemplate whatever it was he would always think about.

"But a game of Shogi?" Komachi muttered, nonplussed and rattled by what she had just seen. Keima, swaying on her arms beneath her, scoffed at the silly question. Her scythe flapped wildly behind her like a tail, her veiling hagoromo securing it to her waist. "How did you guess? And how are you so good?"

"Just good intuition, and don't underestimate my gaming skills." Keima, without a second's thought, replied, before he began scanning his surroundings. There, in the distance to his left, he could see some constructs on the cliff side. He asked if those buildings were the Tengu settlement. She said yes. He took a mental note of its cliff-side location. Next to it was a great waterfall, whose load crashed with such power that even in this distance he could hear clearly the rushing of the water. The right held little for him to see, for it was the back of the mountain the right hid behind its own back, and, according to Komachi herself, none, including most of the residents of the Mountain, themselves, are allowed access there. The Road of Liminality, where they exited from, was only at the near outskirts of that unknown. Keima glared at the unseen mountain hidden behind its sides. He couldn't help but ponder of the sights and oddities there; an untouched place, in a world already untouched by modern society. A mystery within a fiction.

 _Is it some Extra Stage area? Will that place appear in a future game? So many questions…_

Before he could play around with those ideas, Komachi rose over the cliff edge. Something entered… no, something covered Keima's view.

A great lake, of blue murkiness deep as space, and surrounded by grand sentinels in the shape of polygonal towers, spanned the entire plateau before them. The miniature sea glowed in the basking sun, and the cool air blew great, enchanting ripples in the otherwise calm surface. The great Onbashiro pillars loomed silent over them, radiating the presence of sleeping beasts so strong that Keima scowled a doubtful baring of teeth on instinct

Komachi, on the other hand, just gave a familiar whistle.

"The Wind God's Lake," she named, before she paused to heft him up for a few more seconds of flying, "That just means we're almost-."

 **DORODORODORODORODORODORO**

The Shinigami shot a glance at the sensor pinned to her chest.

Keima's eyes bulged at it.

The sensor, it was blaring! A Runaway Spirit?! Where?! There looked to be no one here, for miles!

And then the bubbling water reached his ears.

"Komachi!" Keima cried quickly, grasping her arm to, "Cloak us, **now**!"

Without a second thought, she followed his orders and frantically pulled at her hagoromo, desperately trying to get it on both of them. Keima smacked the sensor multiple times, till it grew quiet. That distracted the Shinigami, though, for she was now smacking him back instead of accomplishing her original task.

"Don't hit my boobs!" Komachi screamed, red as her hair beads.

"I'm trying to shut it up!" he retorted with equal fury and anxiety, before pulling at the hagoromo, too, "Now just cloak me, before-!"

A pop entered both their ears.

Both pairs of eyes turned to the source. The water, it was… boiling? No, it was being disturbed, it was… it was turning into a geyser. Something was-

One great, last and desperate tug and grunt, and both of them disappeared from the world.

O - O - O - O

The great darkness parted; the curtains of glass bead trickled down for the light to finally reach her, and she inhaled fresh air, nose flaring from the stunning difference to the stench of the lake bed.

Tired, battered, and in need of sleep, Yasaka Kanako, toes skimming the water, looked miserable to the world. Her fist clenched. Her body tensed itself awake. She needed not dwell in her little patheticism. The Moriya Shrine had been without her for almost a day now, thanks to her prior insistence in something as silly as fasting beneath the Lake, and she was regretting ever thinking of such a decision. Just what was wrong with her, doing something as time-consuming and, frankly, useless as a day-long fast? Was she turning senile, because in the past few days, it really felt like it.

The fast had done little to reorganize her thoughts, for the onerous Kanako could not bear to tear herself away from her gripes and spiteful temper to look and marvel at the lake's fish or starry void. She dwelled, stewed and bubbled in her meditations. The lambent rage within her rivaled that hell raven's latent energy, so much so that she had to fire off her Onbashiro's into the air three times last night, making fireworks for the night, and perhaps trouble for the Shrine once Heaven took notice. She felt like going on a rampage. She wanted to. But she could not. Her pride did not allow it.

It was not like this sensation had never dawned in her before. She had had her bouts of frustration, and far too many times her dealings with the Mountain denizens had resulted in debilitating quantities of alcohol, not out of celebration, but out of the Shrine's fear that she would go and tarnish the name of the Moriya for the sake of forceful threats. In the past, some things went the direction of her second wind in Gensokyo. The Autumn Goddesses far below the mountain had pledged their allegiance to her the moment she touched down, owing to the fact that, in years past, they had been old friends. The Kappa of the Untrodden Valley and Genbu Ravine were easy to sway, especially with outside world technology swaying in front of their faces. They had a reliable energy source from Old Hell. The Hakurei were not much of a bother, anymore, and their spot at the summit of Youkai Mountain made for a great vista for a Goddess like her to peer down on the land and make herself feel high and mighty.

The excitement of those advantages, though, were but morning glories to the coming night.

Nothing went the way of the Goddess, anymore. The past few rotations had seen her shrink her smallest, crumble the most, and commit depredations to those closest to her. The first two, she relented. They were stupid decisions, all on her part. The last one, though? That one, she could not feel any ounce of guilt for; for how could she not be allowed to confute the people who whisper into her ears such fallacies as her _being senile and unreasonable and too bold and too desperate and too easily angered and…_

Kanako's fist loosened, till her fingers hung down. The sun was high in the sky. The breeze was cool and nice. The mountain air was clean and refreshing.

But for how long?

The bags on her eyelids felt like massive weights. She took her eyes to the clouds, and crumpled her face at the sight of such long-gone majesty, till they looked as tragic as the broken mirror hung on her chest, cracked from the pressure of the lake.

'You can't linger in these feelings', snapped a part of her hidden away. She agreed, but how could she at least ride through the swamp of tar? One method lighted in her brain.

Her lungs softened. Her mouth opened. She had not done what she was going to do in years, but, with the specter of incapacitating tension looming over her shoulder and the lack of any ears close by, she could not help but find some means of expressing herself in the philosophical, the metaphorical, and the musical, once again.

Yasaka Kanako began to sing.

Her voice traveled through the open land, far enough for it to dash into every pillar. Her pitch echoed in her booming throat. Her eyes closed. The shimenawa on her back laid unmoving.

Nature lent its ears and eyes to her fervid performance.

It was an old song, come from a great poet and songwriter that Yamato had forgotten, a ballad of the Gods and their struggles for the world, and the performance made to her during her first steps into the Shrine. It had never been played elsewhere, but her mind. It had no instruments, but the sound of the echoes as they returned, themselves embodying the reward of one's efforts having been reaped after the sowing. It was for no one, but herself.

The highs, the lows, they all reverberated through her skin as she listened and sung out her frustrations. The sweat of her brows tumbled as the sun watched her closer. And then…

The climax.

The apex of the song.

The Earth, Sea and Sky stood at awe as her voice overtook her majesty.

A Japanese Opera Masterpiece.

The Goddess still had her voice.

She inhaled the moment the song ended. The air began to calm, and the clouds began to move at the call of the high winds once again. Her eyes opened once again, and she hoped that they at least looked staunch for the time to come. She had much more things to do, and the singing shouldn't have told her so: she herself should.

"Well, then…" she muttered to no one but herself, adjusting the sleeves which had moved during her gesticulations and prodding the tuffs of hair on the side of her head till they puffed as much as she would like her image to be associated with. "Best not keep myself awake. Need to rest up for tomorrow. More… faith to gather, and all."

A melodious croak answered her. She looked down. A little frog's head was peeking out of the water. Kanako frowned.

"Don't tell anyone."

Her now tired and hoarse voice were enough for her to prove her point. The sneaky amphibian submerged, rather frightened, and finally the loneliness set in once again. She took that as an assurance that the calm had return, and that would be inoculated from disturbances. So, without further ado, Kanako hovered away, exiting the area. When she was out of sight, the lake stilled. There was no need for the land to perform to an absent audience. Slowly, the breeze followed, then the chirping of the birds and the incessant buzzing of the dragonflies. Kanako had left nothing behind; no disturbances, just the utmost respect in the form of harmlessness. She rarely returned so quickly, and so, with that fact in mind, the world around the Wind God's Lake slept.

And then two heads popped out from nowhere.

O - O - O - O

"Whoa…" Komachi wowed, mouth agape and eyes wide as she separated from Keima, bringing along the hagoromo on her scythe handle, "So… a Goddess has a Runaway Spirit? And Kanako sings… and she sings really good? What is going on, I don't even know."

Keima grimaced, sympathizing with her concerns. Placing a hand on his chin, he began to explain his thoughts: "Judging by how surprised you were that she sang, I'd say that wasn't usual of her. We'd better act fast."

"You think she's got a gap in her heart because of whatever's happenin' with the Tengu?"

"Of course it is," he snapped at her, much to her surprise, "All the tell-tale were leading us on that direction. The Moriya Ropeway being closed, that Wolf Tengu specifically mentioning it being closed, our resident Goddess singing about…"

"The hardships of a God?" she reminded him.

"The hardships of a God, and, most importantly, the newspaper that ties that together. We solve her problems with the Tengu, we close the gap, and when we close the gap, we catch the Spirit, with an empty bottle, this time."

"Touch wood, Katsuragi. Touch wood."

Keima shot her a glare. She answered with a sardonic roll of the eyes.

"So, then, Katsuragi, does that mean you won't be doing your romancing?"

"Best case scenario, yes."

"So, you're a politician, now?"

"In 281 GAL games, yes."

She leered before continuing with her questions. "Worst case, then?"

"I have to make her value me more than whatever she's trying to get from the Tengu."

Komachi's face scrunched up from his preposterous premise. Walking close enough for her to see her reflection on the lake, she replied, sardonic in tone, "If she went down in that lake just cos' of the Tengu, then what you're doing's gonna be pret-ty hard." Her scythe handle stamped the ground. "I don't… have to do much, this time, right?"

Well, now that was a good question. Would he reward her lack of use with naps, or should he walk down the path that could make her a respectful worker? Even if Eiki was a past capture, his respect for her work… and the fact that a bit of leniency wouldn't hurt if he, for some reason, ever met her in the future made him consider.

"I…" his word lingered in the air, "Might need you for a few errands."

Komachi sighed in dismay and smacked her forehead in some gesture of tire. "Gimme a break..."

"Knowing how much Eiki loved you, I thought I'd take the obligation of making you a hard worker," he bluntly retorted, his stone-cold face driving home the point.

Komachi, startled by his words, sputtered spit into the air before she screamed at him, "Oh, don't you DARE think it's like that between me and her!

"Oh, how delusional can you be, you idiot!" Keima yelled back with an assertive finger between him and her, much to the surprise of Komachi, "No female heroine misses someone that much without having affection points invested in them, nor do they suddenly find romance a good replacement unless that's the case!"

"C-can we just shut up about that," weakly countered the Shinigami as she crossed her arms and looked away with faltering crossness, "You're gonna make a Goddess fall in love with you: might as well make up some plan for the impossible right now!"

"Pfft, I already have."

Komachi blinked, lips stretched to a taut, straight line and eyes shooting him a baffled glance. "What? Really? Since when?"

She swore his glasses gleamed as he began his explanation: "Well, I'm helping her with the Tengu, right? That just means that I might run into the Wolf Tengu we met. I can't be a human, because the Human Village is miles away and no human's coming up the Ropeway, and I can't be a Youkai because someone's gonna notice."

Komachi, listening to his introductory explanation, started chuckling the deeper he went. Something this preposterous as what this man right here was suggesting just did not make any sense to her. "Wait, wait, wait, s-so you're-" she paused to take in escaping breath, "You're saying that you're actually gonna-"

"Why not? No one knows who I am, and I convinced that Wolf Tengu pretty easily."

His partner stopped laughing. A look of stricken disbelief came over her.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"Why would I kid?" Keima pouted, shooting irritated glares at her.

"B-but they're originally from the Outside World! They would recognize you in an instant!"

"That's where you're going help me!" His finger rocketed outward towards her.

"Don't look down on me because you think I'm gonna pee my pants staring down a heart of a Goddess! Your worrying won't get us anywhere, but if you wanna stop me from doing this, then you'd better follow my instructions to a Tee, because I'm…"

O - O - O - O

The sudden gusts swooping down upon the Moriya Shrine gave a light startling to the Shrine Maiden in her usual sweeping. It kicked all the autumn leaves into messy splatters of ill-defined shapes all around the Shrine grounds, and in a usual scenario, it would have made much fuss from the Maiden, but this time, she could not bring herself to do so. Instead, she looked up into where the wind had come from, the Heavens, and stared, seemingly creating premonitions and questions regarding the strange tides. It felt like no wind. No tree around her even rustled. The laundry she had hung must have felt nothing, as well.

But then, just as her brooding went to rest, she heard something. She turned to the steps leading to her home, and… Wait. Was that the clapping of shoes? She hadn't heard such cacophony in quite a while, now, on the account that everyone who wished to visit the shrine flew in, so who could it be?

She tensed. It couldn't be: a worshipper? Here?! The Ropeway was still closed, so how could one come so far up here?

What devout followers!

Quickly throwing her broom aside, she rushed to greet the visitor. The smile on her face grew at the thought. For once, this would please her God, who had just arrived back from her fast, and who looked to be dying for an occasion like this. Oh, joy!

"W-welcome to the Moriya Shrine, good worshipper, are you here to... make a... donation?"

The top-hat popping from beneath the stone made her slow down.

And then the modern spectacles and tuxedo made her stop.

She couldn't even bother to register the PFP on his hand, because his dress code had shocked her blind.

Black as night, and so dapper his sharpness began to fright, the stranger finished the tremendous climb, and stood, impossibly imposing, at the torii of the shrine.

She approached warily, her mind apprehended and numb with paralysis. Questions, though, do not wait for their dams to control them, but before she could speak her mind he tossed to her his little electronic device, and patted his hands of the gamer's sweat.

His gaze looked far into the Shrine.

"Send this message to the Goddess, would you kindly:" he turned his deep gaze to the shaking Shrine Maiden, "'Kanako, I'm here to offer'."

 _I'm going to role-play God._

 **The Once-Troublesome Mysterious Avatar of Mountains and Lakes. The Independent and Inflexible God that Likes Hills.**

 **Yasaka Kanako**

 **Heaven Watches Second Capture Begin**


	12. A Shrine of Transient Talks

_Thank you all for the follows, favourites and reviews. I know I've slowly been neglecting these shoutouts, but seriously, I'm so happy to know that I've been giving you guys something to look forward to._

 _However, to the one reviewer who's raised concern on this Fanfiction, YuukiAsuna-chan, I must apologise for not writing it up to your standard. I'm a writer who respects- maybe even adores- canon, especially if it adds some extra detail into the story. I'm also not interested in creating pairings of characters from different series. Although I am apologising, I must stand my ground on the stuff I've already written. If you're sticking to this fanfiction, I thank you for giving it a chance, but if not, then I hope you find something that aligns more to your tastes._

 _I... I really mean no disrespect here. If you read it that way... well, don't read it that way._

 _Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, guys. Thanks again for reading._

O - O - O - O

Kochiya Sanae, green-haired resident Shrine Maiden of the Moriya Shrine, grimaced and sweated nervous perspiration as she sat down with the self-proclaimed God in her home. In her position, she fidgeted as the building questions began to crack at her walls. Everything she had done to stop him from coming in had been to no avail, and all she could do now that he had made himself comfortable was either threaten them with danmaku- which didn't even cause a flinch when she declared the possibilities earlier- or exercise her self-control and listen to this strange being in outside world apparels. She did not remember anyone in Gensokyo wearing something like that, before, so whoever he was, she could not ascertain from appearance. She did consider the style of the Lunarians, which had made her first suspect him to be such, but on further investigation, the notion did not add up, at all. It was just a painfully British top hat and suit, not like anything in these closed-off lands.

And what was with that PFP!?

Katsuragi gave an unperturbed blink to soothe his eyes as he waited patiently for the Shrine Maiden to finish fretting over the amazing piece of gaming technology she had held between her fingers. So far, his plan to brute-force his way into his capture target's home was going as planned. The dress style he donned had properly shocked Sanae out of her more rambunctious self- that was, if canon would allow for it to be true here- and the effects had properly allowed him to introduce himself as an entity demanding full attention and respect. Fitting for a God. And the PFP only piled up the evidence that he was something much more modern. With all that on him as 'backstory' and 'narrative curiosity', he hoped it would stoke the residency's own curiosity.

 _It's rare for a galge to even tackle the prospects of making the Main Player Character a God…_

 _But I have played tons of galge, and I have encountered these kinds. Playing God either grants you preposterous ways of 'forcing' events to happen between you and the heroine, but that usually works and happens if the heroine is of lower status, like a human or something. They usually never even find out you're a God until the ending. But dating God as God? That's preposterous, and rather hard to wrap your head around, but if you think about it, it can make things much simpler: the amount of energy and time you'd need to establish 'equal footing' is much lower due to how small that gap is. Not like a student to a teacher, or a worker and his boss._

 _With that in mind, and understanding the dynamics between the positional hierarchy of galge, I think the best place to start should be…_

His eyes shifted to the corner, where one of the sliding doors began to inch itself open. There, he could see Komachi, peering in, ready to do whatever it took to keep this hagoromo-made suit and hat intact and stable. A part of him grew uncomfortable at the thought that he could see her, for when she sacrificed a part of her hagoromo to make his disguise, it had cut most of the hagoromo's effectiveness, and now instead of properly disappearing from the world of the visible, a very faint silhouette of her existed, alongside blurred details.

That was not the real issue, though. What if Kanako came in through that door? How was that Shinigami going to escape detection, then, **hmm**? Well, he supposed the shadows of the hallway would have made it pretty hard for most to notice her poorly-defined existence, but that didn't excuse the fact that she came in first, and still hadn't found a suitable spot to hide. How inefficient a worker, she was…

If she was found out, then he'd have to resort to lying about knowing her. Heck, in the best of the worst scenario, she'd be so ill-defined to the Moriya that they'd just think her a spirit from the Netherworld. Yes, that could work. Keima decided, it might just work.

"So… about Kanako…"

Sanae cut him off: "Why did you still come into the Shrine after you asked me to send a message to her?"

Keima puckered his lips at the unexpected question. "Ah… that was my… uh, part of a Manzai skit."

At the end of his sentence, he despaired, and had to stop himself from palming. Why did he say **that**?! Why did his memories of the Grand Prix come to him **now**!? Was he really still rusty with capturing, even after spending days interacting with the Enma?

"Oh… **OH**!" the Shrine Maiden, to his utter bewilderment, clapped both hands together in a sudden realization that flew over Keima's head. With renewed interest, and a big jump in her expressive gesturing, she leaned forward on the table and asked him, with pep in her tone, "You're here to ask her to join you for this year's Grand Prix!"

Keima deadpanned.

 _Eh…?_

 _The Touhou Grand Prix exists…?_

 _Oi, oi, oi, how much did the fanon create? Did they even make anything original, in the first place?_

In any case, the boy quickly snapped awake from his deadly disbelieving trance. If he were to dwell in it, it would spell doom in this early family introduction. Kanako looked to be too far off in her moodiness for him to just approach her, so he considered Sanae to be the very tether that could- no, would, bring both of them together. If she had just gone to call her, that is, instead of sitting down with him to do whatever.

"That's not the point here," he pressed, his forceful tone pushing the Maiden back to her side of the table, "The point is I, the God of Conquest, am here to see for myself the presence of the Goddess Yasaka Kanako!"

"W-why?"

The turning point. Whatever he had planned, he made up in his head just moments before he entered the Shrine Grounds. He just hoped it would work.

"As a God…" His gaze hardened. Both hands laid down on his thighs. "I wish to offer my share of faith to her, as tribute."

Sanae's eyes began to widen.

Keima congratulated himself in the inside. That was the reaction he was looking for, and so, spurred by the sight, in accordance to his script, he bowed in respec-

Sanae's wide eyes narrowed into squints when he collided with the table.

Keima shuffled slightly further from the table, till, finally, he was able to bow in perfect form.

She didn't know which part was the skit.

"P-please, call Yasaka out, so we can discuss in further details my amazing proposition."

"E-er…" She hesitated to answer. "M-maybe… can you please come back another time? I… I don't think the Goddess of this Shrine is ready to see people, today…" It was a tempting offer, certainly, but Sanae found herself worried over whether or not this so-called 'God's' personality would rub Kanako any way that wasn't 'aggravating', and if said offer even worked, at all. Sure, she was a living God, in strict sense, but she hadn't heard of such a ritual before. In all honesty, she felt rather regretful turning away something that, if real, would actually make her Goddess's day, but it was the safest option. Kanako **was** rather grumpy, even after her fast, and if it wasn't a normal, everyday worshipper with a sane mind, then she didn't know what to expect.

The 'God', though, did not budge.

"Then I shall wait here for her," he answered in a mutter, straightening himself back up. "My PFP, please."

Sanae grimaced. "You're not easy to convince, huh?"

 _Someone who's relegated to support cast should be easily swayed by me, unless, of course, there is no window of options for me to choose._

"What do you think?" Keima replied, as his fingers, oblivious to the absence of his hat, combed back his hair, "I have encountered a million dialogue options, failed countless, and succeeded countless more. Besides, I'm here to convince a fellow God, so don't think that I didn't come prepared."

"D-dialogue options?" Sanae parroted through perplexed lips, "Wait, what kind of God are you? 'God of Conquest'… doesn't that make you a God of War? I don't remember any modern Gods popping up from the Outside World…"

Keima squinted his eyes, seeming incredulous at the question. With a tone that should have never been inquired, he answered dismissively, "I am but the God of Games."

Sanae wished she had drunk tea for the added bedazzlement of when she spat it all around the room upon hearing the outrageous declaration.

Actually, she could do that now~

The shrine maiden, much to Keima's bemusement, swiped the tea cup she had offered him off the table, and drank it all in one gulp. Then, to his even more amazed confusion, she spat it all out to the corner. Komachi's silhouette had nary a second to dodge the incoming pitter patter, because the Shinigami jumped back in sheer horror right before the projectiles grazed her clothing.

The tea cup slammed the table. Sanae shot up from her seat.

"Wait, wait, wait, WHAT?! A-a God of Games!? HOW!?"

"W-what?" Keima questioned back, rather shaken by the outburst, "I was sure the PFP would've clued you in on that?"

The shrine maiden began to panic. She started fretting, thrashing her arms like a scared, lost bird, and in record time made a mess of herself and her part of the house as she tried her hardest to make sense of it all. "H-how did games become so… so coveted!? I thought they were just a fad, a-a stupid little thing only kids played! A-a God, of G-G-Games!? T-that would mean-!? Worshippers!? Actual ADULTS!? G-Gundam!? No, I like Gundam, that's cool, b-but Games!? That's just so **STUPID**!!!"

"I'm right here, you know?"

Her gohei snapped a glare of its barrel back.

"C-can't be-!?"

Ah, Sanae has gone off the deep end. That was not what he expected her to do.

"There's no way video games can suddenly have a God: they're toys; for kids! A-and for Outside World technology and science to have a God, t-that's just unheard of!"

Keima pouted in response to her accusations. Not only were her words totally untrue and stereotypical, but her reactions were making the possibilities that he was going to raise **her** flag first rather than Kanako's much higher. He couldn't let the romance happen with the beginning intermediary! That would complicate EVERYTHING!

 _Either Kanako gets here, NOW, or this damn Player 2's gonna ruin the first introduction!_

"Look, Shrine Maiden," he began, this time with authoritative firmness in his voice, "I don't want to waste your, or my time, so please call her out so I can make the proposal!"

"G-God of Games~! God of Games! Eheheheheh~ Impossible, impossible~!"

HEY! How hard was it for her to believe something like the God of Games existed? Weren't Touhou's definition of Gods rather loose and freeform? You could basically worship someone to Godhood, right!?

 _And stop holding my PFP HOSTAGE!_

Keima waved a glancing bit of his attention to where Komachi was hiding. She was still there, clandestine as ever with that scythe of hers, but, with the unfolding situation, he needed her to act. If Kochiya wasn't willing to help, then he needed the Shinigami to initiate Plan B.

Komachi groaned at the recognizable sign he gestured to her. No, she wasn't maddened by the fact that she had to work- in fact, that was only a small annoyance in the grand scheme of things. Instead, she shared sympathies with him over the annoying Shrine Maiden's delusional panic, having never fully come to the comprehension that she could be this hard to work with. She pushed herself off her spot, and began looking for the Goddess. By instructions, she was supposed to find Kanako, lure her out and make her come into the room he was in to 'initiate' whatever droning concept he had planned. It was going to be easy, she assured herself. That Katsuragi boy had it all under control, and as long as she didn't knock anything down with her scythe, she was basically undetectable unless someone squinted. Besides, how far could Kanako be from her, anyways? The shrine couldn't be that big.

One stride forward.

And then Yasaka Kanako lumbered past her side.

What she felt like a blur passing her made Komachi stop. Surprise couldn't even begin to explain the startlement she felt, for it was so strong that she almost jumped and crashed into a wall by accident. The God of the Shrine was coming! And she didn't even have to make a single sound to coax her out of whatever she was in. In all honesty, she couldn't wait for her buddy to later praise her for her speedy execution, even if she hadn't done anything of the sort. Respect and thanks are very tantalizing dishes, after all. But that wasn't the main focus now; she had to see what was to unfold next, if, not from morbid curiosity, but inward evaluation, and perhaps the want to participate and contribute. Besides, it wasn't anything that strenuous. She could accept a job that didn't need her to ferry people 24/7.

Keima, on the other hand, found himself much less amused and instead forever grateful for the sudden blasting of the door. Still, he couldn't help but glue his eyes on the figure entering the room. Pushing the shoji out of her way, Kanako revealed her nonplussed, dark face to the room. Her shimenawa and mirror were absent, but her presence still spurred his hairs up, nonetheless. A little bulb of fear popped up in his stomach:

She looked upset. She looked very upset.

The Shrine Maiden's gohei slipped off her grip. Immediately she jumped to her Goddess, ready to speak anything that could calm her, but before she could even say a word, Kanako shot an agitated and silencing glance at her.

"Sanae…"

Kanako grunted in a low, hoarse voice, a far cry from her opera. She stopped for a second when a strand of hair fell near her eyes, which she lazily blew aside, "Stop it with the ruckus. Didn't I tell you I was retiring for the day?"

"B-but, Miss Kanako, s-someone's here, and no matter what I say-!"

Kanako turned her weary attention to the stranger. Her leer forced a jump from him, and she could only dwell further in annoyance at his meek display. She strutted towards him, and once her shadow loomed over the now-scurrying visitor, she asked coarsely, leaning further down with every word, "Are you here to offer faith or… something worth far less? Do it outside: I'm not in the mood for kissed feet or anything like that."

But then, as their exhaled breaths intertwined, and her lingering glare began taking effect, she noticed his clothes, their very distinct designs calling back to those strange years in Sino-Western history. She rubbed her eyes, but did not rub the supposed illusion away- they were real, modern clothes in Gensokyo.

And then the PFP sandwiched between Sanae's hands dawned in her consciousness. She quickly snapped her gaze back to him.

"Who…" she muttered, slow, deliberate, "Are you?"

Sanae answered her conundrum before he could: "H-he says he's a God of Games, a-and that he's here to meet you."

Kanako squeezed out an incredulous look through her squinting eyes and zipped lips.

God of Games? Huh?

What was this about?

A God?

Him?

This visitor that gave off not even an ounce of the essence of divinity?

Oh, Sanae, what hath thou become? To be so easily convinced by some Outsider… Was it the clothes he seemed to have found from that shop near the Forest of Magic? Or perhaps the electronic doodad that this strange fellow had come to incorporate into his disguise? No matter the reason, Sanae really made a fool out of herself. Perhaps some education at a later date should do enough to teach her of false deities. Now that she thought about it, it would do her health some good if she would also kick this impersonator out of the shrine by now.

Kanako cracked her neck, liberating the ache it held, before she ordered her Shrine Maiden to escort him out. There was no need for her to partake in any of this nonsense. She might as well sleep and recuperate for her more 'important' affairs to come.

She had barely poked a toe out the door when the tug of his hand on her shoulder was made apparent to her nerves.

"My fellow God, please, listen to my request."

Kanako, dreading the appearance of that pitiful existence, turned around in creaking motion. Sure enough, the blasted man was right behind her, a pushed and panicking Sanae in the wake of his original location and now.

"Guh," she balked through her teeth, "Fellow God? You aren't even one, and still you think I would listen to you?"

"Please, listen to my story!" His arm dislodged from her shoulder, allowing his expressiveness in the form of his gesticulations to shine. "I **AM** a God, born of the world's love for games, but something happened, and I'm now here, in Gensokyo. I was looking for some place to stay, really, so- "

"A place to stay?" She jeered with a look of genuine disgust in her face, "Why here, then? Why not the Human Village, the Hakurei Shrine, Myouren Temple, hmm? If I remember correctly, the damn red Mansion has a vacancy- why not humour them instead?"

"That…" Oh, look at the coyness of this false deity, how he looked all shy from whatever he was going to say to her. She didn't have time for this, just say it.

"That is because I've heard of you outside of Gensokyo."

Yasaka Kanako froze. Her entire body tensed. Her head tilted as the curiosity built inside her.

"You've…," her gaze hardened, yet her frown tumbled the other direction, "Heard of me?"

"Y-yes, of your stories in Suwa, and-"

An open palm stopped him. Kanako, still wary of him, began to chuckle to herself as interest grew for his storytelling. Sanae, watching the sudden change in her Goddess's behavior, gawked.

After a short rubbing of the chin, the blue-haired Goddess began to smile. Keima furrowed his brow at the sight, but before he could act, she said to him, "It's not a good idea to tell stories like yours standing up." A quick glance at the table. "Come, I suppose I have the time to listen to whatever you say. I'll deal with your lie later."

Keima's lips curled upwards in return.

Sanae's jaw crashed to the ground.

Komachi silently chuckled with newfound excitement.

A strange reaction, seeing how the one most eager to watch had been the one who had considered lobbing the God's head off just two days ago. The Shinigami couldn't wait, though. Some subconscious part of her, a sliver of her psyche that had found itself acclimated to that Katsuragi's impossible dealings, had arisen to watch the ordeal unfold. To actually bear witness to a trickery well-made enough to convince even a God like Kanako, now that sounded almost honorable, to some extent, and it was enough to sell her the ticket.

When the two finally sat down, Keima began his meticulous lie, or, as he'd like to call it, his 'main character bio'.

His name.

Godly affiliations (appropriate for the context).

His visits and fascinations with Nagano Prefecture and its past.

And, for the best nail on this square-shaped coffin in which he would finally make her, the Goddess Kanako, stick to him: his love for the ballad of Yasaka Kanako, and his search for her after her sudden disappearance.

 _In galge games, the main character's 'listing-type' introduction, mixed with little backstory, can be the fastest way for the main character to get himself associated and into the heroine's niche group. This usually works best for girls who've never met you, and are interested: Kanako here is in the best mindset to receive my introduction. I've purposely made myself interesting to her and her alone- though through different means. It was supposed to be the clothes, but I'm guessing she isn't impressed- and, through this interest, I can get closer to her with just simple words alone!_

 _With this, the entire thing might as well be at a whopping 20% completion!_

"And that's why," Keima's hands palmed the table, "I'm here today. My search is complete, and I now only wish to bask in your glory~"

"Ohohoho~" the incredibly merry Kanako guffawed as she pointed her haughty nose to the air, waving a token dismissal to him at the same time, "My, my, Mister Katsuragi, I had always presumed that Gods of the modern era would've been more bratty and unappreciative of their forefathers, but you are clearly nothing of the sort! In fact, you're a breath of fresh air! You must really love me for you to come to Gensokyo just to find me, hmm?"

How interesting, that a God could be so blind as to consider him one and the same, forgetting that she had sensed no divine energy or presence in her converser just moments ago. In just under half an hour, Keima had, in the most essential terms, swooned her with his words. Still, it didn't mean putting down the sword: it just meant he had to drive the point deeper, so deep it'd take surgical precision to relinquish it from its fleshy tomb.

"No, no," he chuckled, mimicking her pose in the process, "It's just respect~ You're my idol, and I hold your exploits dearly in my heart~"

"Hahah~ If I'd say so myself, I'd think you were here for my hand~"

Sanae, sitting adjacent to them and keeping herself quiet and in disbelief, felt her eyes balloon wide at the thought.

Her hand? Hand in **marriage**!? **HUUUUUUUUH**!?!?

"L-Lady K-Kanako, don't joke over something like that so l-lightly!" She chided, but to no avail as a Carolina hand slammed her in the back.

"Come on, Sanae, can't you let an elderly God have a bit of fun with this guy? I particularly like his stories of me."

"Oh, Miss Kanako," Keima interrupted, much to her joy.

"Yes, yes~ Any more praises coming my way?"

"N-no, I was just- oh wait, I **love** your style of wear~ So captivating~ What's your secret?"

"Hahahahah!" the Goddess tipped backwards from her chortle, "No secret, just years of practicing gathering faith with this impressive stature of mine! The charisma is an acquired attribute, you see, Mister Katsuragi!" For a fleeting moment she turned to her Shrine Maiden to give her some well-deserved snark, "See, Sanae, he's a swell fellow! He can stay here for as long as he pleases! Go and fix up the spare room later, if you may?"

"Ah, about that!" Keima once again interrupted, "I'm interested in discussing the real reason I came."

"Eh?" the Goddess raised a quizzical brow, "Isn't it so that you could stay here until we get you out of Gensokyo? Not that I'd like the idea: having another God look up to me feels very nice and refreshing." She shook the thought away. Collecting herself, Kanako beckoned, "So tell me your 'real' reason. Don't worry, I'm in a much better mood."

"Well…" Keima's hands began their act of twirling themselves in a dance of sheepishness. "I was wondering if, well, there was a ritual where we could share the faiths of our followers together?"

In all honesty, Keima had no idea the context it meant for real Gods and Goddesses. In a normal scenario, he would have been asking for her to train him, following a route he had gone through with Kusunoki a year back, but here, because of his strict timing, and his stronger focus on speedrunning through his captures, all his more conservative ideas had little room to work.

It was a simple notion: by placing himself in an equal playing field- i.e. by implying his status to be equal to hers- he had hoped that it would decrease the length of time needed for the capture to succeed. Of course, in Kanako's case, the rigid timetable, involving dealings with the Tengu and whatnot, had made it much more complicated, and there was no telling whether or not his romantics would even bear fruit, supposing if he could help her with the Tengu problem and rid of her spirit that way, but he could not continue his meaningless doubt. He had to play both the romantic and problem-solving neutral route at the same time, if only so that the former could be salvaged if the latter sunk.

So came the first timeskip. 'Share our faiths' would imply equal status, and perhaps equal power, skipping all the 'please teach me, Kanako-sensei' foreplay, and shaving off all the time those events would entail. Besides, she hungered for faith in both canonical and fanon works, so why wouldn't she, now? The deal was just too enticing for her to decline! It would bring them closer and guarantee that he had some say in the matter!

Keima, though, began to frown, rather than smile.

Something was off. He could feel it.

The silence had been three seconds longer than he would have liked. Was this hesitation on her part? Impossible: it was an infallible request! Looking up from his fingers, he-

 _Kanako flatlined_.

Her eyelids were twitching. Her full smile crumpled into that of an open gawk. Her gesticulating hands levitated in perpetual mid-air freeze.

Komachi leaned closer to see what was going on.

Sanae looked back and forth, confused panic in her eyes.

And Keima? Well…

 _W-what did I say?_

Hands sweaty, pupils quaking. Stomach knotting.

 _WHAT DID I SAY!?_

Time tiptoed by.

He couldn't take his eyes off her soul-piercing ones.

He'd... made a mistake? What? How? That response should've at least done something positive in this pursues route, so what changed? Where did he go wrong? Did he... no, perhaps he did rush? If that were the case, then he had to fix it! Back-pedal, go into damage-control, everything to steady this capture as much as possible, but, Keima realised too late, what was he to do first in this situation?

"I-"

Keima gave a great start. Kanako had begun to stir from her paralysis, and the escaping 'I' had him tensed and preparing for what unknown reaction was to come.

"I respectfully decline."

She finished her answer, flattest voice and denying hand accompanying it as it traveled through the air and into the ears of all four participants. Without sparing a second for the frozen God to answer, Kanako pushed herself off the ground, and shuffled out the door she had originally came through.

And just like that, the God of the Moriya Shrine disappeared from the collective consciousness.

Sanae, whose gaze followed her out the door, turned back to Katsuragi, herself so confounded by the sight she had seen that she couldn't even speak. What she saw made her sympathies increase to the max. She couldn't believe it, but his fish-lipped gawk, that caricature-looking face he was displaying right now, said everything. In fact, it was so good at conveying its message that she might as well don it as well.

And so, the two Outside World teenagers fish-lipped-gawked the minute away.


	13. Settling into God’s Domain

_Another chapter for all you guys. Thank you for the continued support, I really appreciate it!_

 _In any case, two reviewers have caught my attention just recently (heck, one reviewer just spoke up TODAY), and they had very solid critiques on my work. Here are my responses, if you may. They're terribly long though, so bear with me, or skip them._

 _Reply to ZX03 : So it's come to my attention that the term 'purple prose' exists, and after reading up on it and looking at the chapter in question, I have to agree with you that I was excessively extravagant in how I write. A bit of self-reflection's narrowed the cause for this habit of writing, but it's not an excuse, just a reasoning of how I came to write this way. If you may:_

 _I've always been under the mantra that writing with the best of your ability is what a writer should be doing on the get-go. Although it's much more taxing than just writing drafts and taking each step from there, I held high regards the notion of 'flexing your literary imagination' in any possible scenario. This came from my deep-seated hatred of incorrect grammar (even though I may have made my own mistakes countless times before), and from my experiences reading more older literature in my English Literature classes. The poetry, prose and plays we went through had archaic ways of writing (heck, Silas Marner took the class a while to get used to), but I suppose I saw them with such enthusiasm that I incorporated said archaic-ness into my writing, with what many can consider to be 'purple prose' these days- heck, I wouldn't be surprised if my pension for writing flowery language even exceeds the poetry I've read (and, like most high-schoolers, forgot)._

 _In any case, I have to thank you for pointing this out to me. I've never thought about purple prose, but now that you've brought it to my attention, a bit of speculating's made me realize just how annoying it can actually be, reading something that, in the grand scheme of things, can be simplified or toned down for better flow._

 _Other than that, the complaint that this story is a sequel to an old Senran Kagura crossover (which you seem to hint some disdain at) is something I have had my worries about, and was the main reason that I've held off on publishing this fanfiction in the first place. I have no excuses on that. It would have been extremely easy, and much better honestly, to have just removed those references and filled them with something that made more sense to new readers. However, my love for my old work (which, now that I think about it, has MORE of that accursed purple prose) stopped me from actually disconnecting this story with that one. I am not, however, trying to worm my way out of this by playing the sentimentality card. It is a failure on my part as a writer to not dedicate myself in at least sawing the odd parts out, and it is an even worse look for me to tell you that I find little actual incentive right now to remove and pave them over. However, seeing how the inclusion of references to older fanfictions causes concerns in the first impressions department, I'll refrain from doing so in any future works._

 _In any case, I am honestly grateful that you've pointed out these deficits in my writing, and happy that your decision to stick to this fanfiction paid off in the long term. I would have been extremely disappointed if you yourself were disappointed with where this story has led itself into. I honestly care for TWGOK's canon, and it's great that I've managed to capture its tone(?) so well. Thank you for your critique, I hope this story continues in the way that made you start liking it in the first place._

 _Reply to Server lock ; It should be noted that because of my respect to canon, I've taken great strides to keep the feel and development of the original work intact. By the sounds of it, my efforts seem to be paying off. It is, however, true that such a continuation sacrifices some well-meaning development and progression, but I was betting on the novelty of this crossover and the novelty of my handling of it to pull me through, which, in unfortunate terms for some readers, means playing it safe in terms of development, and no true underlying plot (much like the original first few captures of TWGOK). _

_I suppose there's also space to argue that the fact that I don't really innovate on the formula of TWGOK is by itself 'lazy writing'. I'm doing this because I hold said formula in high regard. It, in and of itself, is a simple yet extremely flexible narrative structure, and it helps in simplifying the skeletal writing process. 'Sticking to my guns', as you've said. If it's a formula that works, then I'll see to it that I walk it. I just have to decorate it in unique ways to stand out from the competition (which there are extraordinarily few in the TWGOK X TP category)._

 _And yes, I'm here for critique. I do strive to becoming an author one day, and I need to understand what I'm doing right, and/or totally, utterly, without excuse, wrong. Thank you for the discussion about my choice of keeping canon intact for TWGOK,_

O - O - O - O

While that was going on, Komachi began her quest to stalk the Goddess deeper into the shrine with the help of her hagoromo. In her initial line of thinking, she had wanted to take a nap after he was done. I mean, there was nothing for her to do afterwards, anyway: if it had gone by smoothly, then she would have had little to do. His outlines plan had little to do with her, honestly, unless some detour forced his hands, and the hagoromo came to more use but luckily for the slack-happy Shinigami, that didn't happen. Unfortunately for her, though, something else did, and she had to rely not on her handling of the invisible fabric, but on her legs to do the job, much to her chagrin.

Handling her cumbrous scythe with the finesse of a war veteran sneaking into the most clustered mansion in the world, Komachi snaked through the building, a few steps behind the Goddess. Her silent footsteps alerted nothing in the cold, claustrophobic halls of the Shrine. She watched with bated breath for something.

 _Man, she walks fast._

She remarked in thought as she took a turn, greeting the afternoon sun with her presence. Where was this Goddess going? At this point, she didn't even know whether or not she was still walking, or just straight-up jogging. Yes, the Goddess was picking up the pace.

 _Hmm… Maybe I should visit that Hermit once I'm finished 'ere. Her place's really close by._

She could hear sharp exhalations coming from the Goddess. Was she panting? Well, if she was, then she should slow down; cut her own self some slack or something.

 _Moternaster should've caught that Runaway Spirit, by now. Ugh, what a hassle that one was: I had to do my job for an extra few days. If it reenters Eiki, then… Well, I'd have to see him kiss her again. Whoo, s-so embarrassin'._

Kanako stopped in front of a tub of water. Komachi, stopping in her tracks at the same time, quickly realized how visible she was beneath the sun's rays, and she scurried to hide behind a nearby tree's shadow.

Peeking out from behind the trunk, she started to listen-

 **SPLASH**!

Whoa! Kanako-! She dunked her head into the water! Komachi watched with bated breath as the Goddess temporarily drowned herself in the full tub. Shock and incredulity lined her face. She didn't know what was happening, nor could she understand why she would do this, but she couldn't just up and leave now: something must be coming from this. She just knew it.

At the sound of the rising head and beating water droplets, she poked her sight out again, and silently she began her watch, this time without-

 **SPLASH**!

 _OI, HOW MUCH PRESSURE AND STRESS DO YOU HAVE!? WHERE DID IT EVEN COME FROM!? YOU WERE LOOKING SO HAPPY BACK THERE!_

The Goddess raised her head once again, but did not raise her eyes from the tub's innards. The water glistened as it cascaded off her face and hair, and Komachi wondered whether she was staring at her reflection, or the depth of the tub.

"Huh?" Komachi murmured.

Kanako answered her confusion with a clawing palm to her face.

"Speak up… SPEAK UP!" she whispered intensely.

Kanako answered that with a swift kick to the tub.

" **DID I JUST GET PROPOSED TO BY ANOTHER GOOOOOOOOD**!?"

The tub soared majestically.

Komachi's jaw hit the dirt. She would have given the flying tub a ten outta ten, if not for the fact that she was paralyzed in place, her heart breaking into palpitations, muscles shuddering from the revelation. She almost forgot to breathe.

 _Wait, **WHAT**?!_

 _S-sharing faith between Gods is equal to marriage?! Really? How have I never heard of this_?

She couldn't believe it. If she had known, then perhaps all this would have been avoided. She wouldn't have had to waste her energy coming out here, listening to her own brain chide her for her lacking knowledge if she had just… KNOWN ABOUT IT! Still, judging by Katsuragi's prior reactions, she supposed even he didn't know. Wasn't that going to complicate his future interactions, then? Well, now that she thought about it, if he could force his way into Eiki's space, then what was stopping him from pulling a similar stunt with her?

She watched Kanako cup her cheeks and murmur other things.

"N-no, you delusional baba (old hag). He couldn't have… He must have thought it meant something else. He IS a new God, yes, s-so he must have not meant what he said. It must be archaic practice, or something... M-maybe I should… yes, yes, educating him on proper ethics first would be a smart move, so he'd not make the same mistake in the future..."

Komachi flinched as Kanako stomped the ground and shot the earth the gaze of her fists.

"Why am I getting so worked up over it!?"

Then she tousled her hair.

"Haven't I been proposed to before? Why is this one so… so… what's the- 'off-putting'? Off-putting. Just why?"

Proposed to before? Well, that was just weaponry for the teasing. But off-putting? Hmm, Komachi might need to relay that to the boy once she reentered the shrine. Every bit of information counts, right? Besides, she was dreading not hearing the end of it if she didn't tell him everything, her mind reminding her of his torrential, apocalypse-summoning rant after Eiki's capture.

Kanako blenched loudly to herself, and, after a shake of the head that had her poofy bushels of hair slather the ground around her with water, she said in a low mutter, "No, this isn't healthy for a God like me… Need to rest, recuperate; let Sanae take care of him; Tengu, tomorrow."

Komachi took note of the last bit. Tomorrow? The next meeting between the Moriya and Tengu was tomorrow? Well, this information gathering was going swell, so much so she couldn't help but beam a smile.

Katsuragi did tell her that this capture would be done when the next meeting between her and the Tengu were held, so this particular revelation pleased her greatly, if only for the fact that she would have less work to deal with.

She watched, with invigorated interest, as the Goddess combed her hair back and sighed deeply, eyes raised up to the clouds in the sky.

"Autumn's nearly gone," she heard Kanako monologue to herself, somewhat breathlessly, "And I still haven't visited the Aki Sisters… Damn Tengu trapping me up here."

As the Goddess sighed and let limp her high and mighty shoulders, something strange found itself caught in action by the Shinigami's eyes. Komachi gasped and nearly stumbled out of the shadow, if not for the fact that she still had a working part of her brain that wasn't paralyzed with shock and incredulous awe. What did she see? What was- No, what is happening?

What was she seeing!?

Her heart seized at the implications, for she didn't know whether or not the phenomenon was the cause of the Spirit, as it had been on her Enma, or the slipping faith keeping the Goddess tangible. Without any hesitation, she pushed herself off the tree trunk, and dashed back inside. No, she couldn't recall the way around the shrine, but that wasn't the issue, right now! She had to relay this to Katsuragi, now!

Kanako might not have noticed it, but she was fading.

A Goddess was disappearing.

O - O - O - O

Kochiya Sanae pushed open the shoji to the spare room. It was a small space, a few tatami mats wide on all sides, and containing an empty cabinet and some futons rolled and kept in safe seclusion from the dust within one of the walls. There were no windows here, and the trapped air had been the first thing to greet her. She remembered using this place for when she had to dabble in her homework and charm-making training, but that had been years ago, before they had the entire place and the lake transported to Gensokyo; where the shackles that trapped her to the process of school work had fallen off her weighted wrists and her confidence in miracles had shed her off the rather redundant charms she used to make.

In all honesty, she couldn't sympathize with her nostalgia. They seemed so tame, then. Her exploits in Gensokyo went far and beyond much of her past life, and she couldn't believe how long ago those times were or how forgettable it was. Sanae supposed it was for the better. Besides, someone else was going to stay here, now. Until Kanako kicked him out, she was obliged to bring this God of Games Katsuragi Keima to his room.

Speaking of which, she still wasn't convinced.

Sanae grimaced as the thought that he, the man now examining the room searching for the futons, was fooling everyone here of his Divinity crossed her mind. Nothing added up. He hadn't shown any evidence of his powers, at all, and that only served to make her suspect that he was withholding something she did not know of. She considered sticking a dispelling charm on him, in the hopes that it would rid him of whatever disguise or mind-altering spells he was using on Kanako, but decided against it. Without tangible evidence, her suggestion might only lead to scolding, or even an attack she might not be able to deal with in a room this small.

Seeing her lack of options in these trying time, the green-haired Shrine Maiden sighed in defeat. It seemed, now, that checking on Kanako was a better use of her time; he was stringent in his observing of the room, so much so that he had grown quiet to the point that she had begun to believe he was handing her, on a silver platter, the silent treatment, and it felt so terribly unwelcoming. And the usually bubbly Sanae could not handle that pressure.

"Um, M-Mister Katsuragi, sir?" she called for his attention, hoping to request her permission to leave.

"You can leave."

The words clogged at her throat. She hadn't even-!

Sanae shook her head, breaking that panicking train of thought of hers. Pursing her lips, she gave a bow and proceeded to exit the room…

Before quickly devolving into a mass of flying fists and kicks at absolutely nothing but her frustrations.

She couldn't take it. There was no such thing! No way was videogaming getting so much traction for one to create an actual God out of! He must be lying! He must be trying to fool the God of the Shrine to get the most benefit for himself- whatever the benefit was! Oh, he should be wary, because Kochiya Sanae was going to find out what he was hiding!

"OOF-!?"

 _Eh_?

Did… Did she just punch someone?

She quickly looked around to confirm her worries. She wasn't outside the door to the spare room, now- her instinctive familiarity of the layout had allowed her to flail around angrily without the need to look at where she was going, so, judging by the looks of it, she was near the living room- and the sheer terror set in: had she hit Kanako? OH NO-

Wait, but… no one was here… Was she mistaken? She couldn't help but pour question marks into the air.

"Must be my imagination…"

Yes, it must be the imagination of the Shrine Maiden of Miracles. No one else would be here in the Moriya Shrine other than the Moriya Family, right?

R-right?

O - O - O - O

A straggling Komachi, complete with a bruised cheek, slid through the door of Keima's abode, and tore off her hagoromo in a hurry. Keima jumped at the sudden noise, terror filling him as the fear of being found out overcame him; but when he turned to see the familiar face, he sighed in relief, and turned back to his reacquired PFP. Still, a new question lingered: why was she so frantic?

"K-Katsuragi, you wouldn't believe this!" she exclaimed, exasperated and rubbing the right side of her face.

 _I'm in Gensokyo, for Christ's sake; I think I'd believe anything you say, by now._

"You tailed Kanako, I presume?" Komachi answered his question with a frantic nod, "What did you find?"

"She's disappearing!"

His neck tensed into stillness, and his eyes darted towards her. His finger had just touched the Start Button.

Disappearing? What did she mean by that? He didn't remember Kanako being affected by anything of the sort in canon. Of course, one would have to ask where Suwako was, but that wasn't the problem now:

"She's losing-?"

 _She's losing faith?_

Keima caught his tongue. That was close; he'd almost let slip his extraneous knowledge about Touhou to Komachi, which, in his suspicions, would have created countless issues with the supposedly-fictitious Shinigami. Without hesitation, he paved the mistake over, now asking with an unsure voice: "H-how is that possible?"

"Well," Komachi droned into an explanation, placing a hand on her chin, her face doubting and afraid. "Myriad Gods lose their form the moment they start losing most of their worshipper's faiths. But…"

"Kanako isn't one?"

"She's not. If she loses faith, nothing… happens?"

"What's with the tone? Do I have to doubt you now?"

"Hey, I ain't the God expert, here. Anyways," All of a sudden, Keima found himself pointed at by her scythe. He couldn't help but face away from his console, and give a quizzical look at her. On her face marked disbelief.

"Shouldn't you be more worried!?" She fretted, flailing her free arm around with childish gesturing in her effort to insist, "Your 'capture target', or whatever, is literally losing herself to nothingness! If this is the work of a Runaway Spirit, then we should-!"

"Then we stay on course!" yelled Keima, cutting her off. Komachi's eyes widened at the declaration, and she, surprised by his insistence, stayed speechless. He continued: "As long as we can help her tie up the loose ends with the Tengu, we'll considerably weaken the Spirit, which'll give us more time- if her gap isn't fully closed by then, that is. All I have to know now is what she thinks of me in terms of rank, and when the next meeting is. Maybe a few days from now. That's the optimal amount of time."

"It's tomorrow, actually~" she answered, sounding very delighted, her stress from before having been shed off by his explanation.

Keima, on the other hand, lost himself to shock. His PFP slipped from his grasp.

"Also, you know when you asked her to 'share faiths', it's basically a marriage proposal for Gods."

Keima couldn't even.

"What's wrong with that?" Komachi asked, perplexed, as she hefted her scythe on her shoulder, "Didn't you say the speed of the capture came down to when she'd meet the Tengu? 'Sides, from what I've seen, your impromptu proposal's done quite a number on her-"

"BUT THAT'S TOO QUICK!"

"And I'm confused," she replied, reacting now with blankness in tone and countenance.

Keima's body seized, and, with a dramatic flair much too stupid-looking for the Shinigami, he felt the wind rush past him as he fell with grace to the floor, beaten and dried to husk. God had Fallen, and he refused to get back up.

"You idiot, you don't understand…" he wheezed.

"'Idiot'?"

Ignoring her complaints, he explained, "The mid-point of the route is compromised, if it's like that. I was planning to convince her to let me help in adding or restructuring whatever she was going to say in her negotiating with the Tengu. Through this, I would prove to her my worth and help her convince the Tengu, not only cementing my relationship with her, but also get love points for when I need to make her fall for me! If the meeting is tomorrow!" He pushed himself off, his hands under the command of the seething rage building up in his muscles. "Then I won't have any time to initiate any events whatsoever!"

"A-and the proposal? I mean, that was pretty stupid, but I think you could pull it off, r-right?"

" **Even** **worse**! In a capture, especially with a proud, all-powerful character like her, you can't be hasty with your declarations. Not only does it mean you're going against the flow of that proud, all-powerful character's own preferred flow- that being a slow buildup in the relationship- due to the social implications, she'd either see it as a joke on my expense, or something else. In the best-case scenario, everything's just going to be awkward, and that clashes with my original plan, which, for optimum, peak performance, needs to be friendly and casual, yet serious at the same time."

Komachi grimaced at the news, before it was replaced by concern as he slid back from his propped push-ups to torpor and the floor. She didn't really understand all that had come barreling out of her buddy's mouth, but the severity of his voice was not lost to her, and she grew doubtful as a result. How ironic was it that the information she had thought would worry him the most would do nothing of the sort, and the information she thought would make him most ecstatic would strike him with the opposite effect? It unsettled her, honestly. She couldn't keep her mouth shut on the issue, either, so what was she to do, now? Call it a bust? No, she wouldn't hear the end of it from New Hell. With no words to say, she just watched, waiting for him to come up with-

Hang on.

"Do you even know what's wrong between her and the Tengu settlement?"

"I was supposed to find that out later," answered Keima, voice muffled by the matting. Rather vague, but that at least cleared up one contingency.

"If she's the kind who wants things her way- 'expectations' and whatnot," Komachi shuffled to another side of the room, before planting her back to the wall, a coyness in her step, made so so she wouldn't disturb his resting corpse, "What's gonna make her suddenly agree with your help? Knowing her, I'd wager that she'd just toss your pity aside."

"Well, if I hadn't asked for holy matrimony…" Keima paused to give his deep sigh the stage. "Then it wouldn't be a problem. See, knowing how great an act I did as a smooth-talker, I'm sure she would lend me her ears when I **inevitably** lend her my help. Of course, she wouldn't take me seriously, at first, but, by impressing her with my debating skills, I'm sure that will change."

To be fair, those words were quite enough to convince Komachi of the viability of the original plan. She had just one more thing bugging her in her head.

"When were you such a great debater?"

"Games."

Komachi puffed up her cheek at the preposterous answer. "Oi," she croaked through those tight lips, sounding more like a cranky old woman than usual, which, in all honesty, was what she was hoping form. Keima continued.

"Most notably 'The Notion 2: Emotion or Fact'. They had real, professional debaters advise them on the debating competition in the game. The director even participated in the World Universities Debating Championship when he was younger. When I first played it, I was so entranced by the stakes interwoven in the gameplay that I couldn't help but seek all four sequels and the first game, and find other games just like it. In accordance to the quote in each and every game in the series: 'In Debate, no one truly moves first, for it implies the need to know your opponent, and the foolishness of not doing so earlier'."

"I don't know why, but I think my impressed self is being suppressed by just how stupid that sounded."

"IT WAS A GREAT GAME SERIES!!"

"I MEANT YOU LEARNING CRAP THROUGH GAMES!!"

When the dust and their frustrations settled, Komachi had resigned to her signature nap. Keima had pulled out the futons, and was now sitting cross-legged on the soft mattress, playing his Virtual PFP in some attempt to calm himself down. For now, not any one of the pair spoke, content in their own ways of calming down and meditating for what was to come. No one had come to disturb them during this moment of respite, and even if someone, say Sanae or any of the two Goddesses, were to enter, Komachi would have been fine and out of sight. Keima had taken the effort to advise her on pulling a blanket of invisibility around her, so no one at the door could see her as she took her nap.

Keima, though, did not despair. It had dawned on him moments ago, when he was on his way to finishing another galge, that, perhaps, there was a feasible strategy to salvaging his original plans. At first, the thought was but a futile attempt of his to grasp at straws, in which he had dismissed quickly as himself getting too desperate; its lingering essence, though, had continuously brought him back to the notion, and, taking this to mean something more, he began to brainstorm.

The indubitable fact of the matter was that the original idea could not be used in its current state.

With the shifting of dynamics, from Keima's disastrous use of language, to the disastrous timing of the meeting, the base he would have liked to have created would never see the light of day. The meticulous planning he had done had gone awry, and its failings had reverberated through him so strongly that, in the first moments of its revelation, it had incapacitated his capacious way of thinking. Like a broken satellite, he floated in this constant limbo of his, utterly confused of what to do.

That ailment, though, had gone away with the time, and his thinking had recovered.

And with that back, he began to make stark realizations.

Damn, now I'm starting to doubt myself… Actually, the plan's going in the best possible alternative.

His hands stopped tapping the PFP. All concentration flowed into his brain.

Kanako's going away to negotiate with the Tengu. Knowing her current position and status, she'll… She'll fail, and come back with an even wider gap. The simple thing to do, then, is to pick up her pieces.

That would make me her savior.

His fingers, tapping away at speed, halted in the air.

I know this route.

Letting go, his right hand rose to caress his chin.

It's been in so many games before: the main character swooping in to comfort and help the heroine rise to the challenge.

He pulled the Virtual PFP headset off his face, and set them beside him-

He stopped.

His stomach tensed.

Why did it feel like something was beneath his hand?

Pulling his arm back up, he uncovered the source of his curiosity: a little frog, having found its way through the closed door, was sitting idly beside him; for how long, he did not know, but the sudden appearance made his face bend with light disgust. His first suspicions presumed that someone had entered without his knowledge, and had inadvertently let in the amphibian. His second was that Komachi had exited, and basically did the same as his prior thoughts. It took him almost a whole minute of thinking and meditating to himself over the bizarre creature's entrance before a powerful realization shook him awake.

Keima, brows crossed with suspicion, lowered his head down, till both he and the frog were at nearly the same level. Their gazes clashed. He squinted, and then made faces, and then did almost anything to see whether or not he could get a reaction, but the frog stared quietly in its place. Finally, starved of what to do, he simply asked in a whisper.

"Moriya…"

The frog's transparent eyelids shut.

"Suwako?"

The boy and the frog lingered in place. Only the Shinigami's snoring disturbed the air.

"Kero."

Was the frog's reply, before it, to his surprise, hopped away, the suddenness making him jolt backwards. It approached the door. Keima, thinking that it would have wanted the door opened, pushed himself up to grant its wish. But, instead, to his surprise, it phased through the material.

He stood there, silent. Frogs can't phase through…

 _It was her._

She had come to see him.

So... wait, why was he hesitating? Whatever she was doing, she was not waiting for him! Quickly, he rushed and pushed the door open. When the familiar green of the frog was not within his immediate sight, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Upon seeing its hind legs disappear from the corridor to his right, he sprinted towards it.

Through the Shrine he went, turning corners he had turned before, and going down halls in repetition. Whichever hallway he exited out to, the frog would already be by the very turn into the next one. Keima's frown slowly morphed- escalated- into a scowl; he was beginning to think that this elusive true owner of the shrine was toying with him. For what reason? To what end? He didn't know.

 _Where are you taking me?_

His sprint began gaining speed. He'd already started skidding in each turn, but, slowly but surely, he was gaining on the thing. Before long, it had taken a turn around a corner it had never gone through before. His gaming senses tingled at the sight. Such a coincidental change would mean progress! And so Keima, his bones starting to wear and his breath beginning to labor, pushed on.

And finally, he exited the Moriya Shrine.

Sighting the frog, from beyond the offering box, he chased after it on the Shrine pavement. But then he stopped the moment he noticed how close it was to the shrine torii's leg. Just a few strides away from it. He could basically jump and land flat on the ground, and his outstretched arms would be long enough to let his palms cage it. Still, the frog did not seemed alarm. In fact, it was looking at the horizon, silent as can be.

Katsuragi, panting, found his gaze follow the frog's, and he blinked at the sight.

From the Horizon, came Autumn sky.

The sun, having come down from the time he was in his room, now stared him back from the head-rest known as the faraway mountains. Gensokyo was but sprawled out in front of him, as far as the eye could see, its autumn coat glazed over by the evening warmth. Now a garden of trees and patches of clearing and a light sprinkling of buildings were in his sight, and he couldn't help but admit how beautiful the sight was. He had seen something like this, recently, when he emerged from the Sanzu River and soared in the air thanks to Komachi, but now the world around him had a different filter: he was standing in one of the highest points Gensokyo's dirt could offer. What he saw could be described as golden brown perfection.

Without his notice, the frog hopped behind the torii. And then a voice from the same spot called to him.

"Nice view, isn't it."

Keima blinked himself out of the trance upon hearing the voice. Young, supple, yet a thousand years behind those words.

A little childlike figure emerged from behind the red pillar, her bizarre hat tilting somewhat with her angled, cutesy posture. A welcoming smile was plastered on her face.

In her presence, Keima could only mutter:

"Yeah. It is, Moriya."

She answered with a toothy grin.


	14. I, Godly

_Sorry for the slightly longer delay of this chapter. I have been adding new elements to this capture that weren't present in my original rendition, and I hope to the Gods that it pans out. In any case, enjoy. Thank you all for the reviews, the criticisms and the favorites and follows, I'm really happy that you guys see this story so highly, and I hope not to disappoint._

O - O - O - O

A little unspoken event happened to Moriya Suwako a few nights ago.

The myriad God felt rather peeved about that day, even as she began arranging herself for that night's rest. Something had happened to the other Goddess, and she had absolutely no clue as to what transpired in her meeting with the Tengu, other than what broken cracks she could see on her. She had never come home so late, and so ragged and crumbling. It had always been some form of the opposite: she would either be pleased with herself, or frustrated over some detail she and Sane would usually understand and sympathize with, but this time? This time, Suwako's instincts were the one telling her not to disturb the volatile individual. And she didn't even have to convince herself with much: outside the Shrine, the wind sundered in a ferocious dance, the rain was furious and the entirety of Youkai Mountain felt none of it. Only the Moriya household found itself battered by the raging crescendo of Nature, so loud that even the Inner Sanctums of the Shrine were ablaze with the echoes of those hollow voices in the dark of the storm, keeping Suwako awake and very much concerned out of her wits.

And so she decided to have a midnight snack- sure, Gods needed not eat, but she supposed some warm milk would do her some good in granting her the shut-eye she deserved, and the resolve she needed for tomorrow's confrontation. Leaving her hat, and Pyoko-pyokoing through the shrine, she entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to frown at her rewards. The milk she had had saved for the occasion was discolored. Spoilt.

"No way…" she grumbled.

She took the glass bottle out, and opened its Kappa-emblazened cap, before she took a whiff of the contents. Suwako blenched. It had really gone sour.

The question, though, wasn't what she was going to do now, but _how_?

She felt the inside of the fridge, and, to her surprise, found it warm. Even stranger. Had the power gone out? Impossible, their source of energy came from Old Hell itself! There was no way that was true.

As she groaned and pouted, slamming the door of the appliance in the process, she turned and readied her disappointed return to her room. But then, as she was turning, something caught her eye in the corner, something in the dark. At first, she thought little of it, but, as the unfamiliarity sank in, she thought to give a quick glance to calm herself down, show her escalating mind that nothing was-

Suwako shrieked in surprise as the form of a human silhouette registered into her brain. She nearly slipped as a result of the egregious jolt her body nearly pulled on her, and quickly corrected herself into a low, pounce-ready stance.

An intruder? At this hour?! In this weather?!

Was it a Youkai? Can't be a Human, so it must be.

But then, she paused. Her vision cleared, and she finally realized what she was seeing.

Suwako felt only shock.

Kanako.

Slouched on the wall with an empty gourd by her side, Kanako's pathetic form sat, silent, in the darkest corner of the room. Suwako couldn't even begin to understand what was in front of her. Abandoning her stance, she called quietly to her, hoping for some confirmation of her consciousness:

"K-Kanako?"

No answer. The darkness was too thick for her to see any change in expression. She called again, this time with more spice in her words.

"Baba (Old hag)."

Nothing.

Suwako blazed with a shudder.

"Kanako!?" the terrified God of the Mountains cried as she rushed to her side. She quickly surveyed the Goddess with her hands and squinting eyes, and found her unconscious, totally knocked out cold. Had she been drinking? Gods don't just get drunk like that! No, why had she been drinking? And so much, as well. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, and Suwako could only look at her negotiations with the Tengu for her answer.

Anyways, she couldn't sleep here. Suwako's hands rose to Kanako's face, and she slapped her cheek, wanting to wake her.

Her breath hitched. Suwako felt something on her hand. Hesitantly, she traced her face of this strange, moist feeling. Was this water? The alcohol she had drunk? Sweat?

The moment her tracing thumb touched her eyelids was when she had her answer.

Suwako gasped.

Kanako had cried herself unconscious. She couldn't believe it. It had been years since the Goddess even found herself so low as to cry despair, so… why now? What happened?

What happened between her and the Tengu?

No electricity, and a broken Kanako laying right in front of her. The latest she had ever arrived back home. Her tired, broken state. It all pointed to something.

"The Tengu closed us off, didn't they…?"

And then, all of a sudden, Suwako's senses, to her unprepared shock, flared awake. Her neck turned her head back towards the empty kitchen, and she didn't know why, but she felt it. Something was here with them. It was no Shrine Maiden, that was for sure. She reached for her pocket, but found that her Spell Cards were all back at her room, and grimaced as a result. Whatever was in here had her spiritual body crackling with a cornered animal's ferocity, and she couldn't help but dread.

And then she saw it.

Suwako gawked.

In the air, something floating.

A… A ghost? A sprite? No, it was something much more menaci-

She hadn't even made up a word to describe this entity's presence when it, with awesome speed, darted towards her- no, it wasn't coming to her. It was going towards Kanako!

Suwako lunged forward to drive back this sudden intruder and attacker, but before she could swipe at it, the thing zipped past her at lightning speed, faster than the average high-speed danmaku bullet. All her muscles tensed. It was going to attack the defenseless God, and she-!

 **NO**!

Her body turned around, and-!

"Huh?"

Suwako blinked. Her eyes grew wide. The spirit, it was…

Her turned her gaze to Kanako, but it only piled more questions. She looked very much untouched. Then it veered to the left, and then the right. Only the static expanse of black answered her.

Where did it go?

Was it all a trick of the mind? No, she felt it so strongly. It was there, it was _real_ , and she didn't know what it was.

She took one step closer to her fellow Goddess, hoping to assure herself that she was fine, and stopped.

The strange presence was no fault of the mind. It was real.

It was still in this room.

And it was inside Kanako.

Suwako had to repeat that off the top of her head to fully understand.

Inside?

Did it just straight up enter her?!

"H-hey?!" she cried as she once again went to her side. There was no mistaking it: she could feel the spirit's energy from within her, somewhere in her chest. Whatever it was, she didn't know how to pull it out.

"Get out of her, you evil spirit!"

Only the mirrored shading of her face answered back. She grimaced, despair welling inside her. No spirit would just… stay still when the full might of a God's command befell them! Heck, spirits don't just enter Gods without any proper ritual! This was… this was basically breaking and entering, and for a God's spirit to suddenly be inhabited with another, it would, at worst, corrupt her existential being and break the God's form in the physical realm! What was going on? Suwako's own hands flew to her own face, patting around her cheeks and nose in some frantic, dire attempt to wake herself from this torturous dream. The Myriad God, for the first time, found herself clueless as to what to do.

Sanae! She could do it! Maybe… maybe she could exorcise this thing out of her! Save her very soul from immolating.

She pulled at Kanako's arm, trying to lay her on the ground for any rituals to be done with relative ease. But as she did, she heard something fall to the ground, something light, something in the form of a sheet. She stopped her heavings, and examined the shadows on the floor, catching sight of a letter on the ground. She couldn't, but curiosity, and the very sensation emitting from the piece of paper drawn at her every senses, its own existence towering over the invading spirit's malice. Placing Kanako back on her resting spot, she swiped the letter off the floor, and, in the moonlight, came to shrivel in fear at the sigil on its surface.

For it belonged to the Gap Youkai, Yakumo Yukari.

One may ask, then, why she even cared? Two ancient enemies, having been at odds with one another for so long it seemed impossible for them to ever come together. Well, there was nothing special, where that came from.

It had been a few centuries ago when Suwako decided, finally, and after much time spent pondering the issue, that it was the moment for her to put down her loathing and hunger for revenge against Kanako, the Goddess who had taken her shrine mere decades ago. To most, it was an issue of natural selection: as time went on, it was inevitable that she would, naturally, select that option and finally move on from her past with the other Goddess. At the time, though, she did not exchange condolences and forgiveness with her. It was more that she aimed the concentrated loathing at herself, instead. Gods are proud entities, and for a God like her to actually convince herself to concede her shrine was the greatest weakness: a cowardice and unwillingness to defend her presence in the Shinto pantheon. For decades, the people of Yamato, _her_ \- no, Kanako's people- would suffer for her callous self-deprecation. Only the Inner Sanctum could contain the Myriad God's myriad curses, and, not only that, the mishaguji, the curse Gods Suwako had under her command slumbered alongside her, leaving the kingdom Kanako had inherited from her barren and wasted.

Young Suwako had been but a stubborn fool- for what word best describes divinity but 'stubborn'- and, in the end of those decades of hunger and death, she found herself on the road of total disappearance as faith in her wavered and dispersed. No sane individual would neglect her life so much like her, but what could she, Suwako of the past, say? For was there a life to lead in the land she had lost and surrendered like some coward tadpole?

How ironic, then, that Yasaka Kanako, tired, bearing the wounds of berating's end, had to be the one to smack some sense into her; and, in a great debate that lasted an entire day, she did. In almost thirty years- plus-minus ten years- Suwako found the motivation to greet the outside world once again. Two enemies held hands that day, one raising the other high in the air as the drums of the people and weeping sky celebrated. She found herself vindicated, not only by her once old people, but by the Heavens themselves.

She could only ask herself, there and then, why she didn't choose this sooner?

Kanako must have heard her say it aloud, for in the next moment, she conceded to her, an event that she still remembered to this day. A Goddess like her had been helpless throughout the great detriment, unable to rid the land of its impoverished state, and she could only show her defeat with grace; grace the once-triumphant Goddess Suwako exhibited before her fall.

Of course, that meant little in the grand scheme of things… Well, okay, that meant a lot to her. Because now, the debt of war was paid; no one owed the other favors, and she would not have liked this unity any other way.

For the first time, she could smile at her worst enemy. And in the countless days that were to come, she would come to love her and those dotting Shrine Maidens as family.

And so Suwako tore open the envelope.

O - O - O - O

"And she wrote about you."

Keima gave a doubting glance at her direction, averting his eyes from the scenic majesty that was a sunset in Gensokyo and garnering much curiosity from her words. Sitting on the Shrine steps, Keima had been listening to her reminiscence with sharp ears, hoping for some additional details that he could scrounge up from the little-big Goddess. It was a touching story, he had to admit, one that tugged at his heart strings and made all the direr Kanako's situation, but the new reveal, though surprising, came as just another miscellaneous bit of detail for him. Rather curious, he asked, with disgruntled tone:

"What did that Gap Hag write?"

Suwako chuckled. There was no mistaking the mutual nature of her liking to the stranger of the shrine, and he could see that in her tone, "'Bout how some guy from the Outside World would help. I wasn't expecting some four-eyes in a tux, though- I was thinking more on the line of those exorcists the Outside world love to idolize and make into superheroes. That would've blown Sanae's mind."

 _Oi, who do think I am?_

Keima could only convey his disbelief with an insulted leer, though even that only elicited a sly smile from her. He sighed. There was something… disturbing, almost disconcerting, about talking to the Goddess, like she had been twirling him around her fingers all this time, even if the bulk of her words were recitals of a past she herself had difficulty even remember. An NPC of wishy-washy, hard to track tongue, like she would lash out at him with a confusing mesh of playful jest at any moment. They were predictable once he got the grasp of their character, but this present the 3D Goddess radiated… How overpowering.

If you closed your eyes right next to her, you would have sworn it wasn't the façade of a little girl, but the towering grandeur of Colossus, right next to you.

"Did she…" his lips twitched from her overbearing presence, "Say much about me?"

"Not at all," she waved a denying hand in front of her face, "Just told me not to worry: that you'll fix it. But how do you even come to know her?"

Keima gave a wry smile, "Eheh… Let's say we… have some business relations between each other."

 _Really want to blame Dokuro, right now…_

Taking the answer at face value, Suwako then asked, "So how're you going to drive that spirit out?"

Keima, still smiling his phony grin, felt a drop of sweat stream down his head.

"She… didn't included that?"

"Yeah."

Keima unhinged his gaze from hers, and turned back to the horizon, a pensive countenance to accompany the viewing. The warmth of the sun washed his face, and he wondered, in his mind, of one question.

 _WHY DIDN_ _'_ _T YOU AT LEAST TELL HER, YOU GAP HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!?_

"I'll… help her resolve her issue with the Tengu," Keima simply answered, a nonchalant shrug garnishing his sentence. It was the best answer, anyways, if it meant no complications from someone possibly disagreeing with his second considered route.

Suwako, though, found herself unimpressed. "Really?" she asked, "It's that easy?"

"Y-yeah."

 _Don't copy someone else's dialogue! Komachi said the same thing last time!_

"What does that even have to do with the evil spirit inside her?" she questioned.

"W-well… I suspect…" _I know._ "That, because of the misery she's feeling from whatever's happened to her, she's been weakened to the extent where the spirit could enter her. So, by resolving her conflict," _Or by making her fall in love with me, but, if Komachi's reactions tell me anything, you, or anyone for that matter wouldn't like hearing that._ "It'll squeeze the spirit out, and liberate her of it."

Suwako nodded as she entered a state of deep consideration- oh, look at her legs swinging around, how cute. Without so much as a glance, she then said, "So you already know what happened, then?"

"No, I don't." He could already feel her incredulous gaze on him. "Look, I found out about this from a damn newspaper- not like real life has checkpoint markers or option screens- and even then, the author didn't really go into details. I was planning on asking Kochiya, but-"

"Judging from **my** story, you don't think any of us know."

Keima sighed. A right guess. He heard a clap of feet, and turned to see the Goddess stand upward. Stretching out, she stood proudly on the steps of the shrine, a weak smirk drawn on her face.

"Well, you're out of luck. That baba's been sulking so hard that she hasn't told me, or Sanae anything, and I **have** been asking~ If you're thinking of following your original plan, then I suggest you reconsider. If you've got a better way, then tell me: I think I can help."

He could only click his tongue in irritated agreement. Who else on this list would he consider.

Suwako stayed silent as he pondered the answer. Courtesy, she supposed, especially since this was the man who, in prophetic terms, would save the other Goddess.

He, firstly, considered all that he had at his disposal: guesses, interpretations, and accounts. Judging from Suwako's guess, which she had espoused during her story, they must have been cut off from the rest of Youkai Mountain by the Tengu settlement. If they truly held a ring around the Shrine, it meant that there was no way for them to move- a total lockdown. To the ears of an outside listener, this would have curdled blood and troubled progress, for it meant that there was no way help from without the Moriya Shrine could come. For Keima, though, it had simply become a non-issue in his head: he was basically unknown to everyone in these lands (save for Rinnosuke), so why they would come to his aid, he had no clue.

What was troubling him, however, was what Kanako had trouble **with** when it came to the Tengu. What had conspired, in that faithful discussion between Kanako and them, that would have made them do something so drastic as to dump the Shrine's very existence? What did Kanako say? What did the Tengu say? All these, he considered, and all these, he dared not put his own imagination into? If the other members of the Shrine had known it, then everything would have been so much easier, but here he was, in a predicament he, frankly, hadn't, but **should** have, expected, with nothing to follow or lead him.

 _First, there were missteps, and then all this… If this wasn't real life, then I would've reloaded a save by now._

"Still…"

Keima raised a brow at the return of the patient Goddess's talkative character. She spoke as she stared to the horizon.

"Pretty funny for you to lean in on your Godhood like that, even if it's such a tiny sliver. I was sure Kanako would've noticed, but anyways, that was a real interesting power move, kero~" A grin, almost hoping to share in the glory of that ingeniousness, popped into her face. Keima, initially swept in the sentiment, smirked back, even pushing up his spectacles for added effect.

"Of course~ If you understand how to stimulate the interests of character archetypes such as her, it's totally easy to act like a-"

A wide-eyed stare shot back at the actual crouching Goddess. She turned after noticing the odd stillness in the air, and crinkled her countenance in puzzlement at the reaction. Had she said something wrong? Maybe it was the 'tiny sliver' part. Gods were inherently proud, of course, so it was possible that that was what peeved him so.

Keima's finger pointed at himself.

"Um… yeah, what?"

His hand suddenly started thrashing. They gestured so fast in the wake of his silence that it almost looked like he was trying to act out the world's worst stutter and stammer, but that only confused Suwako to no end. She couldn't help but answer with her own wide-eyed stare and a raised arm in reflexive protection.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on with you?!" she cried. Keima looked ready to explode, and, in the next moment, he did.

"I'm a **GOD**!?"

"What, you never noticed?" the Goddess bluntly delivered upon realizing his fears, "Then again, I can't really call you part of the Yaoyorozu no Kami- still, a bit impressive to get this much divinity at such a young age, kero. Get a few more **actual** worshippers, then maybe you'll get past the threshold of faith. Y'know, start on the path of actually becoming a God."

Keima, even after receiving such odd praise and advice, almost seemed to spin in disbelief- maybe the Curse God should come and check up on him, or something- before falling to the floor in a heap of utter denial. Suwako blinked, before she looked back towards the horizon, content on letting the mistaken boy dry himself out in the-

"WAIT, YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW YOU WERE GAINING FAITH?!"

"I wasn't being serious when I called myself Fallen God, okay?!" he riposted, earning even more of the ire of the Curse Goddess.

"Then why did you even try to be a fake God in the first place?! Did you really think Kanako wasn't going to notice?!"

"I was trying to sell myself!" Keima shot up to his feet, and with much exaggeration he explained, "Get up to her level, and swoon her with my amazing, inspired poetry~! That's how it worked in thirty of the GAL games I've played, why should the skills I learnt from them not work NOW?!"

"You should be happy that you at least have some divinity in you, kero; I wouldn't be surprised if Kanako kicked you out and I have to let you stay under a lilypad for the rest of this!"

Even with the Goddess's words, Keima could not quell the panic in his head. This was not something he'd ever thought a possibility. It couldn't be his website that did it, so surely there were other things influencing said 'divinity', that intangible concept so annoying to conceptualize that he was almost content in just giving up in trying to understand it. Gah, who was worshipping _him_ , anyway?! Why?! How?!

He had to concede, however, that the idea of being an actual God seemed almost too good to be true… for his younger self. After all that had happened with him and the Goddesses, all the problems, the persecution, the dangers and the inherent _responsibility_ , he wanted nothing to do with whatever it was they had to go through, so **no**. No, no, **NO**.

"Do you know the way to stop being a God?"

"Wow, resigning that quickly, huh…?"

Suwako shook her head at the dogeza before she explained, "Look, maybe 'Godhood' was too strong a word, or something. You barely pass as one, and I don't think you have any power to do much of anything, 'God of Games', especially in a place as backward in technology as Gensokyo."

"So… I'm not a God?" questioned the puppy-eyed man.

"In the grand scheme of things…? **Barely**. You might... I dunno, you seem pretty useless."

She almost wanted to palm her own face at his beaming smile.

"Maybe… a lousy blessing, here or there," she begrudgingly continued, "Anyways, if you really don't like it, then maybe we could siphon the faith out of you."

"S-siphon? You can just do that? Wait, i-isn't that sharing faiths?"

A shrug confirmed his suspicions. "A one-way transferring of faith's much different than sharing, but it's been a few centuries since both me and Kanako have tried."

Keima considered that tantalizing option. There was a problem, however. A huge, huge problem.

"Maybe don't do it now…" he opined, making the Goddess raise a brow, "If it's true that my divinity's keeping Kanako from noticing, I'll just wait until we get rid of the Spirit, and then let you dispel it."

Suwako cocked her head to the side in consideration, and a moment of silence fell upon the two. A nod succeeded it, as expected by Keima, and with her signature amphibious smile, she hopped up into the air in some display of joy and, once she landed, uttered, "Better be careful with whatever it is your Godhood can actually do, kero~ It can get pretty addicting."

He only shot back disdain, much to her entertainment.

"Besides, we're not here talk about divinity, that's boring! This is all about Kanako, and judging by what you just said, you're on a one-track mind with the entire thing, I'd reckon."

"If it gets me back home faster," grumbled Keima in response. The sigh of relief from Suwako was supposed to ease him, but it just made him pout at the sudden turn of situation.

But then, the sound of the other Goddess's shoes rubbing the cement brick snapped him out of his inner tirade, and he turned around, away from Suwako as she muttered to him:

"Well, let's see if you hold up with her as well as when you were in the entrance, hmm?"

The sight slightly widened his eyes in surprise.

"Mister Katsuragi."

A quick cough, and two claps of halting sandals, filled the modicum of silence, "I… wish to discuss with you about your earlier proposition."

Suwako giggled through her child-like grin as she bobbed her head side-to-side. "Ah, planning to get married to the new guy, you old hag~?"

Keima audibly cringed at his mistake.

Yasaka Kanako did just the same.

"Do you," the red-dressed Goddess pointed at herself, " **Want** me to lock you in the Inner Sanctum, again?"

Turning to the God of Conquest, Kanako chided, with little regards to his flinching form, "I'm sorry, Katsuragi, but you should know what it means when two Gods 'share faiths'."

"Uh, y-yeah," he answered, voice unprepared to don his disguise and fake personality. The concept of his Godhood had come and interfered with his train of thought. Yeah, 'one-track mind', she said. Honestly, he was hoping that he couldn't care less about it, but it just kept coming bacl. "I-I didn't really know what it meant, but Miss Moriya here-"

"Call me Suwako, boy!"

"Suwako, filled me in on the details."

Kanako sighed, seeming relieved to hear the news of her unneeded explanation. "Well, that's good, then," she said, a contemplating and cough-ready fist near her curled-up mouth.

"It's rare to see two Gods in the same place, as I'm sure you're aware," she then remarked, taking one step closer to the little Goddess. Now that they were standing side-by-side, Keima couldn't help but note the height difference- still, there was no surprises to be had: Suwako's child-like stature guaranteed her to be on the short end of the comparison stick. "Pretty impressive, isn't it?"

"Yes, but now there are **three** Gods in the same place! How impressive for Miss Yasaka to gather so many of Divinity in one place~"

Kanako gave a weak half-smile at the uncomfortable, yet dotting response, disturbed by the enthusiasm. Veering her sight to the other God of the Shrine, she asked, "So what'd you think, Suwako? Other than the…" she cleared her throat roughly, "Embarrassing suggestion, I think Katsuragi here can stay in our place for a while."

"Yeah, yeah," Suwako nodded, though a repugnant face replaced her innocent look from moments ago, "But next time, let me decide who gets to stay! This is my shrine, after all!"

"Okay, then." Kanako crossed her arms, "If everyone in Gensokyo asked to stay, who would you allow?"

"Everyone!"

Keima froze at the uncanny situation.

"Isn't that a bit excessive?"

"Because Katsuragi's taking the spare room, they'll take your room."

"Oi."

"And you'll sleep on the porch."

"OI! Why're you even doing a manzai routine, right now?"

Suwako snickered to the furrowed woman, before she answered, "Oh Kanako, I'm just trying to lift your spirit, is all~"

Having lost the eyes of the two friends, Keima turned a clandestine, sharp, and meticulous eye at the Goddess on Suwako's receiving end.

His gamer senses had roused awake.

 _In a dialogue situation such as this one, where the heroine has some underlying issue as a character flaw, even small remarks, like what Suwako just said, would always elicit a response that usually shows how deep the wounds of that issue are- it's the developer's own way of hinting at the elusive problem held close to the girl's heart- and in a situation like this, I can at least gauge for myself the extent._

He noticed a brief, momentous period of smiling on Kanako's face; a pleasant sight, for sure, but only a handful of seconds later did it diminish into a sullen mirror of the original, thick with what he presumed to be an acute strain of melancholy, perhaps guilt or regret. And then, to cap it off, there was the infamous straying of the line of sight, with her now looking at the ground as a result.

She had improved from when Suwako's retelling happened, but it wasn't enough. If she really were to meet the Tengu tomorrow, there was no telling what she would do in that mental state.

Keima bit his lips without Kanako's knowledge.

 _She won't succeed tomorrow._

 _She will dive deeper into her despair, and the Spirit will grow stronger._

And all without the Spirit doing **anything** **noticeable**. It was not like Eiki, whose Spirit encouraged her fall from grace. This was something literally lounging in her despair like a hotel being renovated from three to five stars. The thought made him grind his teeth and seethe.

"Ahhh," Kanako suddenly exhaled, most probably feigning fatigue, "Maybe I should rest for now. I'll be in my chambers, if you need me. Katsuragi, tomorrow, as your elder, I'm thinking of letting Suwako teach you proper ethics when dealing with other Gods. Don't… don't want another proposal going off, huh?"

"Sure," Suwako agreed with a smile.

Slow, and with dragging step, the reassured Kanako left the two to their staring, shambling into the shrine without so much as a glance back at them. Call them valetudinarians, whatever; Keima twitched from the welling emotions the sight of his target's broken state wrought upon him. Perhaps Suwako herself noticed the luxury the spirit felt as it hid in her fellow God's heart, or, with her Godly senses, perceived the Spirit's excitement for the oncoming disaster in the future, for in those moment, both individuals found themselves with the same expression they had hidden beneath the surface.

That passing metaphysical entity called the 'second' came to bear witness the foulest scowls.

Katsuragi Keima had always held some modicum of care when it came to his investment in helping girls rid themselves of their Runaway Spirits. This time, though, after an entire year, after being spirited away, and after kissing an Enma, for God's actual, very real sake, he was throwing his lot on the table.

Suwako, on the other hand, could see her suffering through her bogus attempts at hiding them.

When did she ever walk like that, and when would she ever entrust her with something as self-fulfilling as teaching a God something?

"Hey."

Keima looked to the source of the voice, and found himself staring back at daggers.

"You'd better get that thing out of her, no matter what."

He sighed at her insistence. What did she think he was going to do?

"I'll… revise my strategy," he stated, before his legs began bringing him back into the shrine. Passing Suwako, he heard a disgruntled harrumph from behind, a reminder that his promise had become a literal baggage for him to drag along, and then the footsteps of little shoes.

When he had climbed the wooden steps into the shrine, and wasp preparing his reach for the sliding door, Suwako muttered, low in volume, behind him:

"Yakumo sent her guarantees, but that doesn't mean I trust you all that much."

Keima stopped his hand. He turned his head to shoot a solemn gaze back. Suwako, though, mellowed as she continued.

"Still… I guess I'd like to see how far this smooth-talker, who's so good that he's tricked a God into thinking he's one of them just by _saying it_ , can go."

Suwako's lips curled into a stiff smile, an indescribable smile, something warm, yet doubting the aligning stars.

Once again, Keima sighed. Not at her, though, but at himself. He just hoped his newfound caring wouldn't blindside him of the Outside World, and Chihiro. Still, he had to answer, and the God of Conquest answered in the only way he knew.

"Do you doubt God?"

The sliding of the door cut off the conversation. In their first steps back inside, both individuals separated, and travelled down their own paths.

And, in that moment of lonesome silence, a new plan blossomed in Keima's mind.

Komachi was already awake when he reached his room. With a quizzical gaze, she asked, nonchalantly, a satisfied smile on her face, "Where've you been?"

He didn't answer her question.

"I need you for something: we're going out."

Komachi could only furrow her brow as an answer.

If Kanako wasn't going to be comfortable talking about her story, then he would hunt down the other side of it himself.


	15. The Crow who Dreams

_Back with another chapter~! Thank you all for still following and liking this story. Specifically, thank you Server lock for the complimentary review. If anything peeves you, and, in extension, anyone reading this story, feel free to criticise it. I'm here improve my craft, not be someone who doesn't care about going above and beyond._

 _In any case, I hope you enjoy. See you next week!_

O - O - O - O

An hour later, Sanae paid a visit to the room in the worst manner possible.

 _I'll show you. There **may** be a God of Gundam, but never a God of Games! I, Kochiya Sanae will never fall for your phony name!_

She inwardly declared to the world, her mind's voice a farcry from her stature now as she crawled on her belly to the door, looking not to threaten, but to very much to embarrass herself as a result.

In all honesty, that wasn't even her true goal, here. An early spot of dinner had been arranged just for the Goddess who had finished her fast, and she had been entrusted the task to call the so-called God of Games to join them. Her suspicions notwithstanding, she couldn't understand why Suwako would sound so enthused about him. All that chatter about his potential enjoyment of her food just made her want to poison one of her dishes just for him. Of course, if he **was** a God, then the poison wouldn't work. If he **wasn't** , though, then that might as well be sufficient evidence to convince Kanako of his fraudulent deeds.

Sanae grinned. She'd reached the door, and as the first part of her plan, she placed her ear on the wood and began to listen. He might be plotting something aloud, so if she caught something interesting, it would help her case.

A minute later, Sanae began to sweat nervous perspiration.

"Eh?"

Nothing? Seriously? She had expected there to at least be tapping, knowing how much he loved that PFP, but for an entire minute, he had made absolutely no sound at all.

Then, from within her doubts, Panic rose. Muscles tensing, heart pumping, nerves trembling; she shot up from the ground and tore the door open.

It was empty.

She couldn't believe it! The room was **empty**! It couldn't be… Had he already raided the Shrine's inventory!? That thieving-! Immediately after her deduction, she rushed to the Shrine's storeroom as fast as her feet could take her. There was no detective work: she had already taken off with the most spindly of leads.

The most basic truth to the matter was, if she hadn't just crawled on the floor, she would have noticed the sign posted outside the door, one specifically written just for her. And it was simply this:

' _Going out for dinner._ '

God, descending down the mountain on Komachi's arms, shuddered as he began to realize how regretful he was for not posting a notice at the bottom of the door.

O - O - O - O

She felt like she was in Heaven. The clapping hands welcoming her rise from her seat, the celebration in the spirits as they danced in the air, the people, the place, the time, the sore loser in the corner crying over the inevitable.

It was a dream come true.

The first tear on her face was proof of that.

"Come up and receive your prize, please."

The carpet felt like what she had always dreamt of: liberating. The eyes upon her did not strike discomfort upon her at all. The world was her oyster, and she wanted to open it up, take out its pearl, and sip on its sumptuous flesh.

The roaring of the crowd grew, and grew. All kinds of Youkai, gathered in one place, watched as she ascended the steps. Her name was surely to be carved in the annals of history, and that only served to elate her already ecstatic state.

"For elevating the status of the Tengu Newspaper to new heights, and for writing breathtakingly beautiful pieces that have brought all the races together, I present to you the highest honor for a Crow Tengu."

Yes, yes, **yes**. Her smile was already hurting, and a minute hadn't even passed. This was making her feel SO good inside.

And then, there it was, from the corner of her eyes, the trophy, of sparkling Underworld Gold, insignia carved by Kappa technology, and a blossoming bouquet of flowers in its cup, courtesy of Spring and the Human Village. It was incredible, majestic, magnificent, unbelievable, splendid, superb, grand, awe-inspiring. Its gleaming allure was almost indescribable, and she inwardly thirsted for the thing to come to her arms. Her legs felt like they could give way any second.

That was until she realized that Yuuka was holding on to it.

Her lips went flat. Her eyes lost their luster.

No, no, her very presence alone was _fine_ ; I mean, just look at the eclectic bunch behind her, but…just…

Why did Yuuka look so 'moefied'?

When the Youkai of the Sunflower Fields reached her, she said to her these very exact words:

"Pls rember that wen u feel scare or frigten, never forget ttimes wen u feeled happy. Wen day is dark alway rember happy day."

Eh…?

Now Yuuka looked much less… moe? What is going o-?

"Please remember that when you feel scared or frightened, never forget the times when you felt happy. When the day is dark, always remember happy days."

Ehh?

Now she looked positively **normal**. The recipient of the trophy couldn't even.

"For your own sake I ask you to remember that whenever you have feelings of fear, anxiety, despair, dismay, revulsion, trepidation or any form of foreboding fright, I beg of you to never dismiss from your mind the moments you have felt euphoric, ecstatic, jubilant, merry, thrilled, and upbeat. Whenever your days are dim, outcast, drab, somber, gloomy, or bleak, always remember happy days.

 _EHHHH?_

Suddenly, a hand grasped at her collar. Yuuka heaved her closer, till all she could see was the demonic maw smiling at her, and the lusting eyes of the Devil's right-hand sadist.

 ** _EHHHHHHHHHH?!?!_**

"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY IN GENSOKYO, FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS WHO MOVED TO THIS WORLD FOR THE SAKE OF SELF-PRESERVATION I IMPLORE YOU, BEG OF YOU, BESEECH YOU TO REMEMBER-!"

" **WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT**!?"

"CALL TO MIND, AND RECOLLECT YOUR PREVIOUS THOUGHTS SO THAT WHENEVER YOU HAVE FEELINGS OF DISCOMPOSURE, DISQUITUDE, REVERENCE, PRESENTIMENT, MISGIVING, CONSTERNATION, AND ABHORRENCE, RECREANCY, OR WHENEVER YOU BREAK OUT IN A COLD SWEAT AND TREMBLE UNCONTROLLABLY IN DREAD-!"

" **LET GO OF ME!!** "

"I IMPLORE YOU TO RECALL FROM YOUR PAST EXPERIENCES THE FEELINGS OF CONTENTMENT, OPTIMISM, JUBILATION, BEATITUDE, ENCHANTMENT, EXUBERANCE, GENILITY, SANCTITY, MERRIMENT, JOVIALITY, HOPEFULNESS, VIVACITY, PROSPERITY, OR DELIRIUM!"

" **WHAT DOES ALL THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MY INAUGURATION?!** "

"WHEN THE DAY IS IN DOLDRUMS, AND YOU FEEL LANGUISH, HEARTBREAK, DOWN IN THE DUMPS, DISCONSOLATE, GRIEF-SICKENED, HEAVYHEARTED, LOW-SPIRITED, DESPONDENT, LUGUBRIOUS, WOEBEGONE DOLEFUL, DEJECTED, BEREAVED, WISTFUL, SORROWFUL, GLUM, FORLORN, DOWNCAST, BITTER, DISMAL, TROUBLED, LOW, OR HURTING, ALWAYS REMEMBER-!"

" **REMEMBER WHAAAAAAT**!?"

"HAPPY **DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS**!!!!!"

" **THIS IS A DREAM! THIS IS A STUPID DREAM, ISN** **'T IT!?!?!?** "

"Ah, you noticed?"

She fish-lipped at the sudden answering of her question.

 _Who said that?_ She turned to the source of the noise, somewhere close to him.

And there, on the cross above them, crucified-

 _Wait, when was this a Christian Chur-_

"It's a dream: question not it. Or it not."

She deadpanned at the girl crucified to the cross. Why did she seem so familiar, like some ruler of the Dream World that she had heard about…?

"Well, in any case," gentle-floating Doremy Sweet of the Dream World uttered after she'd peeled off of the cross, stopping her fall when she was at eye level of the dreamer, "I'm supposing that you don't like the fact that your dream is… well, a dream."

She huffed at the living embodiment of non-verbose smugness.

Doremy shrugged in contempt at the suffering little thing in monster-Yuuka's hands. "What can I say? I'm just trying to help, is all."

"Help?"

"What?" she feigned surprise, "After a blow that powerful to the head, you usually don't get dreams as entertaining as this; thus, courtesy of my exceptional kindness, I'm basically helping you relieve tension from your body, so you don't suffer that much, and besides: dreams are usually the body's way of reorganizing what's been happening on the other day, so let's just say that, with me in your head, you won't be losing anything **too** valuable."

"Eh? Blow? To my head?"

"Well, yes. A hard knock, to your noggin. Not a very subtle way to declare their presence in your house, but it's, in all frankness, effective."

"Wait, I was **knocked out**! Are they…? They're not robbers, right?!

A gasp followed.

"They're gonna **rape** me!?"

"That's a bit of an overstatement," Doremy rebuked with a dismissive hand wave, rather disgusted by her conclusion.

And then, for reasons unknown to the dreamer, the Tapir-colored creature turned away, and began to levitate upward. Upon asking her of where she was going, she said, with a glance:

"Ah, yes, I'm just off to watch something, now. You'll wake up shortly after, and once you do…"

The dreamer flinched: she had shot her a conspicuous, imaginative wink, and, not surprisingly, her reaction entertained the Dream World denizen.

"Tell him I said hi~"

Himekaidou Hatate's strangely-unwonted consciousness rose from its trance. Eye brightening, the lids found themselves forced open with the force of a blink. She shook her head, throwing the drowsiness off of her, and found that she was staring at the floor of her house- she knew it was her house, because there was that poorly-hammered nail there, close to another that looked ready to pop loose. A throbbing pain greeted her throughout her awakening, and she quickly traced its source to the top of her cranium. "Ugh… What happened?" she drawled like a jiangshi, shaking and lost for breath. Sure, if she had fallen and hit her head, then she was culpable, but something in the atmosphere did not seem right. First was what her dream… stranger was telling her. Second was the fact that she couldn't move her arms as if they were bound. And third were the two pairs of feet on the very top corner of her vision. Either it were both Aya and Momiji, or…

Wait.

Two pairs of feet?

In her house?

Whilst she was tied and incapacitated?

A cold sweat rolled down the Crow Tengu's face.

"Ah, she's awake."

That set her off.

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?"

Well, she didn't scream, actually.

She was gagged, as well.

And gagged very, very tightly.

Hatate thrashed and tugged at her binds as terror welled and flooded over within her beating heart. She had never had this happen before in her entire life, and it was striking her nerves so hard that it beat too fast for her to even comprehend counting her pulse. Falling face-first on the floor, she began to wiggle like a worm to the door, desperate to get one of the Wolf Tengu's ears. She didn't want to be robbed! She didn't want to be _violated_! She just wanted to write the best newspaper! Someone, help her, please!

A hand grasping her leg made her freeze. "Whoa, there," the muffled, feminine voice of one of the thieves said as she pulled her off the ground and plopped her on one of her shoulders, "You're an important part of this, y'know… Not that I like it, being a Sh-"

"Don't reveal your identity."

Hatate shuddered at the command not even meant for her. It was a man's voice.

She turned to glance at her captors' faces, but, to her dismay, both of them were wearing what looked to be Noh Masks, and their exaggerated Oni faces made her stomach churn. She noticed the table full of papers that they were going through, its original, neatly- stacked newspaper pieces in shambles, a reporter's worst nightmare. She squirmed once more, though this time, instead of the fear she had felt earlier, it was rage. Some pair of… whoevers actually had the gall to break in and make hostage a member of the Tengu settlement, proud and powerful Youkai who would shame generations past if they were to so much as not notice the blunt object coming to rend their consciousness. Their getting away would be basically inconceivable! The whole settlement would hunt them down, or, at least, punish the group of Youkai they came from. All that, Hatate forsooth, and she was confident in their destruction.

The dubious pair discussed what they could do with her in whispers. Pah, she could hear them loud and clear.

"So… what'd I do with her? Maybe a knock on the head will blow out her lights again."

"Oi, we're not here to kill any supporting characters."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry about that, just… No, wait. Maybe she can help us…"

Help them? In **what** way? What did… Ah, that's right, what did they want from her, anyways?

Surely, newspapers that weren't from the Bunbunmaru couldn't be that sought-after in such short notice. The efficacies of Aya's writing was still selling- not that she liked the idea of sensationalized works actually being popular- and she was nowhere near as recognized.

Could it be her money? Well, if it was that, then they'd come to the wrong house. Bunbunmaru was still a flight away.

Kidnapping?! Wait, wait, wait, why would they rummage through her articles, if that was the case?

As she stopped her pondering, they stopped their conversation at the same time. She felt her holder shake, and, in due time, she found herself plopped back down on another side of the room. Her captor had a hard time navigating all the stacks of bound papers, but it wasn't long before she was set back down on her bum. She tried her hardest not to let her skirt fold up and expose herself, though, after some moments of fiddling with her legs and finding her attempts only exposing her further, she gave up, finding the ordeal tiresome and pointless, and the man in the pair too focused on the table to even care for her state.

The other, though, looked to gesture embarrassment as she crouched down to help adjust her piece of rebellious clothing.

"Never knew Crow Tengu were **that** needy. Uh, that was a joke. Y'know, lighten the mood and stuff."

Hatate would have spat on the mask, if she had the chance.

The help, though, couldn't have come at a better time, for the man turned to her, posture imposing and tall, the lamp behind him casting his shadow upon her.

"I will free you from your binds," he said, simple and clean, nothing ulterior in his tone of voice.

Hatate furrowed her brow. What was this? What was the catch? Had her awakening really deal that much damage to their plans?

"But you have to help us in something…"

Oh, come on. Well, the door was close by, so maybe she could-

"I'm a God."

 _Eh?_

Her protuberant eyes blinked in surprise at the statement.

"I am, as of this moment, in a sojourn in the Moriya Shrine."

 _What?_

"H-hey, buddy? Didn't you say-"

"Shut up, you Devil."

His partner snarled at his brazen insult. He, oblivious to her tactics of intimidation, turned back to the speechless- and gagged- Hatate.

"The situation is this:" he stepped closer, earning him a flinch from the Crow Tengu that did little to dissuade his approach, "I want to help the Goddess in the Shrine resolve her issue with your people. I think you know what I mean, yes?"

Wait, did he mean-?

"I… admire Yasaka Kanako. I love her very much~" The man, strict presence mellowing, cooed, his hooting behind the mask echoing out into strange, cringe-worthy tunes. The sounds abruptly stopped, and he shot an accusing finger to her: "Which is why I want information."

Information? W-wouldn't this weirdo who calls himself a God have better success with Shameimaru? Honestly, even his friend looked rather unconvinced by his plan, judging by her slouch and slacking shoulders.

"I need to know what happened behind those closed doors between her and the Tengu leadership, and I think you know what happened."

Hatate grimaced at his presumptions. Bit down on her lips, she did.

Because he was right.

She did know.

Most of the higher Tengu did. They were there when it happened, sitting on the left with the Wolf Tengu alphas, while the Great and Hanataka Tengu took the right. They were there to see a debate on their continued leasing of land to the Gods, but what transpired was not some vote. What did, though, was a display on what it looked like when a God was strained to the tautest, when the conniptions escalated to screaming, and when entire discussions broke and destroyed relations.

None in all the Tengu caste were comfortable, but she was the sole exception in one thing: all looked down upon the Goddess's demands; she pitied her.

And all the newspapers were silent.

She was the sole outlet to have slipped it in as the main story. Why not? They were cowards for not bringing this to attention. People had the right to know; heck, she thought the whole of Gensokyo **should** know! The other newspaper-writing Tengus should have strove to portray the story as the most damning example of diplomacy broken. They should have published the story, and pressured the leaders of the Tengu of their mistake! Youkai shouldn't just push others away, they should be in harmony! That should've been common sense, and yet what she saw that day…!

Hatate awoke from her great berating staring at the ground. The two, they stood silent and waiting. She looked up. The man behind the mask sighed.

"If you're wondering why we chose your place…"

His partner pulled out a newspaper. She immediately recognized it.

"It's because you were the only newspaper talking about it. And that means…"

His hands reached for his mask. She and the other visitor gave a great start as the realization that he was beginning to peel his mask off entered their minds.

To the disguised Komachi, it was insane.

To Hatate, though, it was the perfect kind of symbolism in the perfect moment.

Katsuragi Keima flourished the mask on his hand, before he adjusted the glasses that had been pressed to his face for so long. The Crow Tengu's awed stare was enough an answer.

"That we both have the same goals, and I can trust you."

Hatate couldn't bring herself to look away from his sharp, yet young face. This… This was a God? N-no, it could just be… He and her had the same goal? Is that true? She wanted the Tengu to stop abusing the Moriya, and he… he wanted the Tengu to stop abusing Yasaka. Yeah… they did.

His shedding of the mask had done much to sway her. For someone breaking and entering to just take off their disguises like that, what was he- not the girl, who kept her mask- thinking? No one would be that much a fool to do so, unless they were totally convinced that whatever they were doing would work, and, by the looks of it, nothing warranted that belief. It did, though, make her think. The confidence in his face was intoxicating, and she couldn't help but consider.

What was he going to do with the information she **could** supply to him? What was his plan to alleviate the tension between the two superpowers of Youkai Mountain? He was so vague in that department, perhaps because of the danger of her declining… But then why did he remove the mask?!

Living in the Moriya Shrine? Wanting to help Kanako? Methods unknown, identity one of the strangest ever touted, and wearing something Gensokyo has never seen?!

Who is this man?!

"Will you help me?"

His smooth voice called to her from her contemplations.

"Please. I need to help my Goddess."

By this point, she was ready to just collapse from his insisting, yet kind eyes. She couldn't believe herself-

"PLEASE HELP US!"

The lower jaw of his partner fell out of the mask disguising her.

Hatate shrieked through her gag.

W-what was he doing!? Was he that desperate!? G-get your hands off of me! Stop shaking me!

"WE NEED INFORMATION! I CAN'T LEAVE LADY KANAKO SUFFERING! **PLEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSEEEEEEEEE**! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TIME I'D BE SAVING IF YOU WORK WITH ME! IT'D BE THE SPEEDRUN OF THE CENTURY!"

Surely, this man had neurosis!

But, if he was speaking the truth: if he was a God who wanted to help, then she couldn't stop herself.

Hatate, in the midst of her blending, frantically nodded, screaming through her gag for him to stop.

And he did. Keima, upon sighting her plight, sighed in relief, before he let her go and stood back up. With a little wag of his hand, he said to the Shinigami beside the Crow Tengu:

"Take off the tape."

Komachi, on the other hand shook her head in disbelief. He had done it again. How he did it, she had no idea, and how he used such childish methods to such degrees, she didn't know as well, but if it was going to make her stop reading all kinds of articles, then she was fine with it. She reached for Hatate's face.

Hatate, on the other hand, wondered during her shaken state:

 _Wait, tape? Wasn't there a_ -

The intruder's friend tore off what was basically her face. And when something tears your face off, you-

" **AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH**!?!?!?"


	16. The Thing I Saw

"It's around here… somewhere," a sore-lipped Hatate muttered to the two pairs of ears flanking her side as she rummaged through the floors of her bookshelves. They stacked high, much higher than most would expect, and Keima found himself standing a relative distance away, if only to quell his fears that the towering thing would fall and end him. For most of that time, he hadn't exchange much words with his partner, Komachi, who still donned her mask so as to not get recognized. She, as well, declined to disturb him, perhaps under the impression that he was in his usual deep thoughts.

He wasn't. Instead, he had invested all his focus on what was in front of him, watching expectantly for the answer to the largest question in the entire story.

The decision to raid this particular Crow Tengu, rather than the **other one** had come from little thought and consideration. With a simple question to the Shinigami, he'd learnt that she had considered the same thing. He wasn't surprised. She was notorious for being a shut-in who relied on her powers to get her news stories, and he had heard, both from Komachi and murmurings around the fandom, that she was particular in how she invested in the hopes for good relations between the Tengu and Moriya Shrine. Of course, he could have known more than just that if he'd played the game she had starred in, but the basic gist was enough for him to begin the ball role in terms of where he would go in this information search.

He failed to realize, however, how nerve-wracking it was infiltrating the Tengu; even Komachi looked to have agreed on that notion judging by the face she pulled upon their successful entry. Twice were they nearly caught. At one point, half of the nightly patrol- or what he hoped to be somewhere around half- hovered right above them. How they survived, he had no idea. Maybe, and this was him speculating here, Kanako had, at some point, blessed him and his future as 'God', which somehow translated into his incredible luck, or something to that extent. By this point, he and Komachi would have accepted any explanation that had something to do in regards to some higher power helping them, because the slipping away from the hypersensitivities of Tengu senses was no less a miracle, and how they weren't dead from mere heart attacks were completely different debates, entirely.

Still, it had all been worth it. Entering a small cave beneath a lush, bush-lined Tengu guardhouse, Keima himself couldn't help but admit himself into surprise at the sight of what was at the end of the tunnel.

The Tengu settlement stretched wide in this open scar on the mountain. This giant maw was dotted with cliffside constructs, and it was hidden beneath a blanket of vines and strange steppes hollowed out and reinforced so trees could grow on the soil they held, further obscuring their easily-distinguished limestone color from the prying eyes of others. From beyond the foliage, through the gaps between them, he could see a great gorge, of many rocky columns, and a gust was in perpetual blowing. Their houses, predominantly Edo-styled buildings jutting from the cliff, dotted the great hollow. On the roof, there were buildings hanging on chains, and far down on the ground, there were grand, towering halls and a bustling market, and somewhere on the side, a miniscule line of factories- no, printing presses, toiled away, lining a small underground stream which turned their water wheels. Keima could hear the distinct roar of the Waterfall of Nine Heavens somewhere, its rapturous falling echoing through the spectacular, yet breath-taking sight.

Perhaps it was a good idea that the Touhou franchise never showed this elusive place, because if it had, he wouldn't have felt so stricken by the awesomeness. A gamer's dream, to visit a fantasy within a fantasy within one's fantasy.

Flying outside the eye's ability to comprehend, the two moved silently through the air. It took a while of investigation, eavesdropping and floating aimlessly around, but they found Himekaidou's residence in the higher echelons of the cavern. A duplicate house, much like those of every other Tengu, but this one looked… odd. Not in mood, but color and lighting. It was, supposedly, quaint in the morning, but at dusk, where only the grand sconces lit the air far below and single candles hung at the door, it looked absolutely drab and glum.

Which was why they entered through the window, instead.

The two hadn't even discussed their next course of action before Hatate opened the door into her quarters, which they had entered coincidentally, and saw them. Komachi made short work of her with her trusty scythe, knocking the panicking Tengu unconscious.

Other than that, with her out of the way, the two began their frantic search for information regarding the meeting. There was no telling when she would wake up and cause a ruckus even when she was bound, and so, without further ado, they dove into the Tengu's limitless archive, a terrifying maze of boxes full of papers and photographs, a quantity too much for human minds- though comfortably nested in the thoughts of hoarders. Komachi assured him that a hundred years of reporting usually led to such claustrophobic terrors.

Wait. There was a disparity in information, here. When did she even start reporting news, anyway? He thought she'd started rather late, so how could she have this much?

The first box answered his questions.

"'Menagerie News'?" Keima read as he pulled out the first piece.

"Ah, didn't it circulate a hundred years back?" Komachi chimed in as she took the dusty sheets off his hands, "They folded fifty years ago, I think."

"Then what about this one?" He handed to her a paper titled 'The Gensokyan'. She dated it thirty years, and still going, though it only reached the hands of a small niche.

The next box contained 'Youkai Report'- seventy years, unknown status now- and 'The Humanitarian'. That one had been tragic, for it drew too close to the sun for the Tengu order, and was shut down one week into its official circulation. Strangely enough, Hatate had all of their issues, framed in glass, and the subtle signs of dried, crusty water laid visible on the surface.

Two pairs of eyes glanced at each other.

She was collecting newspapers. All of them, all written by the Tengu. For what reason, they didn't know, but now it meant that, to find her own prints in this, they'd had to dig through the extra layers. There were no labels. She didn't do them, and so they presumed that she kept her articles in some specific area of the house.

Unfortunate, then, that Keima didn't like the place one bit. It was musty, hard to breathe in, and he had to sacrifice battery life just so that his PFP could shine some light off its screen for him to read the pages. Komachi also found her figure rather squeezed, and she had the misfortune of being forced to leave her calming, though cumbersome weapon at Hatate's room. Not that she needed it, but she liked having it on hand.

Before long, though, Komachi found something. Meeting up back at Hatate's room, with the bound girl behind them, she placed the book down on the table for him to see, lighting a lamp in the process. Because the space around the table was so small, Keima peeked over the Shinigami to see what she had found, and cringed as his gamer senses recognized the familiar item. He supposed, right there and then, that it was a natural progression of things.

It was a diary.

"Get to the newest entries," he instructed, "Then work from there."

Komachi nodded with a grunt of agreement, before she began the quick process of flipping through the book. She reached the end, and reach the latest entry, dating back five years.

Wait, what?

Both she and Keima fish-lipped from the shock.

"Eh?"

"Huh?"

She quickly shut the book to see the cover. On it, emblazoned in fading ink, read 'Diary 13'.

Ah, so that's why it's so dusty…

The good thing about this was the fact that the Crow Tengu promptly woke up in the next moment. How convenient. There were other ways around a hoarder's house. 'Other way' being to convince her to help.

By the end of his manipulative streak, Komachi looked to be ready to ask why he hadn't considered some job as some high-level negotiator. Well, she didn't say it, but anyone would say that. That was the usual dialogue flow in GAL games. Like that would work for a God like him. Too much work, for too little breaks. Besides, he'd only used it because he had been assured of how well it worked during his earlier captures, and his more talkative self, a side of him having blossomed in Chihiro's presence, had a relatively sharp tongue by nature; might as well use it.

And there was, of course, ' _The Notion 5_ '. What a magnum opus of a GAL game~

Hatate's voice brought his attention forward. On her arms, she brought out a box from behind the books. Opening it for them, he peered in, and found himself staring at a hefty collection of pictures, all colored monochrome.

This, though… This photo he slipped out from the collection only proved to him just how breathtakingly useful it would be.

Komachi inhaled a sharp, shocked hiss the moment she squeezed around him to look.

A hand cupped Keima's mouth.

"When did you take this?"

The Tengu answered with a shamed frown. Prying it off their hands to see, she looked away, answering, bashful and guilty in volume, "That's the last one I took before we left."

"And the context?" He questioned on. Every bit of detail counted.

She began to grimace. Keima inferred no surprise or dread from her expression: the picture said enough of why she would hesitate.

"As I said, this was the last one I took," she recalled, staring into the endless darkness of the shadowy monochrome of the thoughtographed photo. Brows furrowed, and her long Tengu ears drooped. "Everyone had left, except for me…

"I was the only one… who bowed to her before I left."

Thoughtography made blurry images. This one, though, Keima could see every detail, as if the sight had burnt so far into her retina that she could swab ink onto her eyes, plant them on a piece of paper, and recreate the same image, almost like an old printing press. The line between the wooden boards. The little pillow and all its creases. Even the shading and lighting were noticeable.

"Are her photos that clear?" he whispered a question to Komachi. She shook her head.

"I don't remember a photo that good-looking."

The figure in the photo was prostrating, and yet she said all but she had left, so why was the figure still there? Paralyzed, it was. Something had rendered it petrified. He did not need prompts, especially from Komachi, who was in the process of pointing it out, to know that that unfortunate, curled up reminder of a hapless fetus was the God of the Shrine. She looked charred in the black thoughtography, crisp, and… no, those weren't strange printing errors, they looked like the unfocused shaking of a painter's hand.

One question crossed both the Shinigami and her buddy's mind:

 _What happened?_

They turned to gaze at Hatate.

"So, uh…" Komachi spoke first, "Mind telling my… ugh, 'Master'-" she veered her face to blench, "About what happened before?"

She hesitated once more, tucking the photo into the box as she meditated over the request. Clearly, she still had her doubts on who Keima was. That would not do, and he prepared himself to change it.

"Himekaidou Hatate."

He read her full name, dredging her attention. She shuddered, and looked up from her mind to stare at him with wide eyes, expectant and confused.

"What do you want to do?"

She answered almost immediately: "Fix the relationship between the Tengu order and the Moriya… N-not that I can."

"You can," he claimed, much to her surprise, "And if you don't tell us what happened, we can't help you."

At this, she bared her teeth in a half-scowl. She was suspecting something, and it was not what Keima would have wanted her to. Knowing that he had little to say that would convince her, or even knowledge of her personality to boot, he went for the predictable, the trademark quote:

"Do you doubt God?"

Her expression crinkled into awkward confusion.

"W-well," she began, a shell of her anger returning, "Y-yeah. Where's your proof? I don't even know if you're telling the truth, or not! What's with the getup?" Keima looked down at his hagoromo-made suit. Komachi looked down at her rather plain non-disguise of her normal garb, without the coin box and a few of her sashes. "Who's the girl with you?" Keima exchanged a puzzled glance at Komachi. "Where **is your proof** of your divine status!?"

"Ah, I can answer that."

The smoothness of his transition made her pause.

"Talk to one of the Wolf Tengu."

"E-er… w-which one?"

"The one good at Shogi."

"All of them like shogi."

Keima clicked his tongue, and leaned in on Komachi for answers. Sure, he knew them, but remember: he had a façade to keep.

The Shinigami answered, "Inubashiri Momiji."

He parroted, much more loudly, "Inubashiri Momiji."

That got him a rather explosive reaction. "WHOA, WAIT, WHAT!? You beat Momiji in Shogi?!"

"Can a Human do that?" He added, a questioning leer in his face, "No, only a God of…"

Well, Conquest or Games wouldn't sound right, here. He had to improvise:

" **Board** Games can."

Komachi shot him a look from beyond the Noh. Keeping track of three titles must be hard for a lazy Shinigami like her, he thought. How sad.

Hatate, though, took the bait hook, line and sinker. No need for magic chants or rituals: the time needed to practice and beat the Wolf Tengu or Kappa in Shogi were numbers too impossible to calligraph in a normal Human lifespan. Good thing he made up that time with just his games.

"U-uh… okay. B-but if you're lying, I'll-!"

Well, he supposed he **did** have some more points he could use.

"How did you think I came up here? Can a Human fly?"

Hatate recoiled from the damage. "Y-you could be a Youkai!"

"Is a Youkai really willing to work with a Crow Tengu, even after he's revealed his face?"

"Y-You could be part of the Tanuki! You're gonna change your face, a-and-!"

"What am I even gonna gain from all this, then!?"

"U-uh, um…! I-influence! Y-yeah, you're trying to cripple us Tengu by severing our relations with the Moriya Shrine and their blessings and technology! I know you and your traditional trappings!"

"Why're you so insistent!? I love Yasaka Kanako~! I want to help her! She's suffering! Okay, how about a game of Shogi to prove it?"

"I don't play Shogi! And how is that going to prove that you're a God? You might as well just be a Tanuki who's really good at it!"

"I'm not a TANUKI!! What an annoying supporting character you are! I don't have time to increase your friendship points, y'know!?"

Komachi just stood there.

She looked around, back and forth, like a pendulum whose movement was dictated by who, on each hemisphere of the argument, spoke. The excoriating seemed never-ending, and all the brouhaha between each other's answers just seemed silly.

In the long run, she thought it was pretty stupid. The Crow Tengu had placed the box on the nearby table during the middle of this heated debate over his supposed Godhood, so, while they wasted their time away clawing at each other's ruckus, she put herself begrudgingly to work, scanning each photo for any information. And when she looked through them, she had to sneak a maskless peek every so often to examine the fine prints.

Each picture told a story, her Enma Shiki once told- no, more precisely 'burnt into'- her, after she had accidentally spoke ill of one of her passenger's artwork. Since that day, she'd been much more… how did they say it?

Appreciative. Of illustrative work. Yes, that's what it was. And still is.

Onozuka's crossed her brows the further into the stock she went. She had the right mind to start from where she thought was the beginning, seeing how the first one they pulled up was the last one Hatate took. Some of them were blurry, especially those first few, with their ill-defined blobs. She could see that someone was sat in the middle of the room, with two groups flanking them. Whatever she was speaking to- perhaps Lord Tenma of the Tengu- was behind this wall, this surprisingly more detailed curtain of bamboo.

The further she went into, the more detailed each memory etched onto the papers were. Faces began to appear. Scowls. There was one whom stuck out with a gaping mouth, screaming… something. The one in the middle began to move, and she felt a vibe of irritated enragement from the odd one out in the photo. Kanako's face turned interpretable the more detailed it got, and each photo, almost one for each second of the event, saw the irritation turn into frustration, frustration bursting into rage, and rage snuffed into sheer horror.

That last shift, she reacted with surprise.

Slowly, everything began to change. The sidelines stopped their glower: they replaced it with puzzled discussions amongst themselves, then finally advantageous grins. Kanako grew smaller. She lost the fervent, stone-carved look on her face, and started sinking in body and countenance.

And the eyes, oh, Hatate could remember them clear as day. How their pupils shrank from each photo. How she lost her stand and, finally, came to her knees, face paler than the white on the card the image had been printed on.

And then the prostration.

Two pictures, the same posture, different scenery. Total crowd eruption. The entire meeting, thrown into chaos.

"Whoa…"

What happened in between?

There was no text detailing who said what, so she was left in the dark of it all. How unfortunate, because now she didn't have something that could shut the two up. Yes, Katsuragi and Himekaidou had been going at it for the entire length of her search, and they looked far too exhausted to keep going, having lost the strength to stand, and resigning themselves to the wall to prop their backs in palce. Even then, they trudged on like soldiers in a swamp of their own graves-to-be, and she knew what that looked like.

"Look…" Keima coughed out, "I've never met such a persistent… NPC before…"

"And…" she panted, "Is that supposed to make me feel better…?"

"No… You're persistent only because you keep ignoring my dialogue choices… You're glitched, or something… I even showed you my PFP…"

"Kappa technology… I told you that…"

"Ignorance… is… bliss…"

"Least I know you ain't an Oni. Oni never lie…"

Keima answered by powering his PFP, and starting his play session. Hatate answered by flipping her camera open and taking photos of him as evidence.

 _This is going to be a long night, isn't it…_

She flipped her head over, and sighed the night away.


	17. Mindful Meditation

_Sorry for being off the map for so long, guys. It's been a busy two weeks for me, and I didn't have the time to focus on writing and editing. In any case, I'm back, and hopefully I'll keep to a weekly schedule._

 _Again, I must thank you all who favourited, followed and/or reviewed my story. It's great to know that people like what I've written, and that I have a lot of room for improvement even at this stage. I thank you all who're reading this today: may you have a good week._

O - O - O - O

Kanako always slept sitting cross-legged on the mat of her room.

It was a habit, really, one bred into her after years of maintaining her visual stature as God. In Days Past, the transcended beings found themselves very particular with their image, and she held no different standards, standing statuette and proud to her worshippers and sitting with such latent ferocity the young Shrine helpers would shiver in her presence, in her atrium, in her shrine. The sleeping posture she used nowadays had been so drilled into her that she looked very much awake and annoyed, and the Feudal Lords of Yamato would have cooed with envy at the presence she still exuded even as she retired for the night.

So, when she woke up sprawled on the floor, the ceiling being the one greeting her in this new day, she grumbled, wanting to hit herself for letting her head slip from the propped rest she had made with her arms during the middle of the night. If anyone had seen her poor state, she would have had the sudden urge to kill herself. It hadn't happened in so long; how long, she didn't know.

Pushing herself up, she hoped it did not signify some symbol of bad luck having befell on her; today was, after all, a cloying special day.

She patted her regal red dress, and resigned herself to her pivoting legs, who pushed her for the morning routine. Stumbling out of the shrine, she shuffled to the tub of water prepared for her yesterday, ready to wash herself clean of the dust of the floor.

Her feet stopped.

She blinked her eyes clear.

It wasn't there.

Kanako clenched her teeth and hands: she kicked it down the mountain less than twenty four hours ago. How, how, how, did she forget? Idiot.

Was nothing going the way for her? Was the cursed streak of misfortunes from her first days of taking the Moriya Shrine coming back to strike her? When will she see the end of this cultish benediction that had driven her life asunder? Betwixt the ruined morning, and the upcoming pedantics of the Tengu, she could not say, and for this she found herself begin to seethe, pulling her onbashiras without the explicit commands of her head. Her swagger had gone, and all in its wake were but torn shreds of things so light even the breeze of a man's leg moving by could pick it up into the air.

The disdain of day, though, stopped short the moment she heard the sounds of sloshing water. A strange sound this early in the morning. She gave a curious glance to its source, and found herself bringing her pupils back from the shock.

"M-miss Kana... ko!"

The breathless, creaking figure of Katsuragi Keima, in a blue yukata, hailed as he hefted the full tub of water to her location.

Kanako stared, and in that moment she also stammered. A strange light in all this dark had stumbled forward to her, and from the God that proposed to her yesterday, as well. She, in a panic at his fatigued state, rushed to help him put down the heavy object. After that was done, she chided to him:

"You... you didn't need to do that! I would have just gone to the lake to bathe. Did you wake up early just to refill it for me?"

"Y-yes!" The deflated airbag pledged.

Kanako sighed, feeling a tinge of guilt tugging at her strings. Then again, she had the pleasure of servants, before. Perhaps a certain pity for her fellow deity had clouded her judgement, but in any case, she took note of the tub and remarked in surprise, "This is the same bucket as yesterday. You went down the mountain last night to eat **and** get it for me, huh?"

"Yes." He gave an enthusiastic nod. "Luckily, the Tengu did not disturb me."

She frowned. If the Tengu were to lay a hand on him, she would have much to say during their eventual negotiations. She couldn't let a young God like him be hurt while he was under her care.

"Miss Kanako?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think bringing your anger into the discussions is going to help you against the Tengu at all."

Kanako paused. Now that was an odd thing to suddenly say. Her inquisitive gaze pondered over what he was addressing, but before Keima could get the hint and explain himself, she shook her head and instead gave a scoff at both him and herself; his learnedness, her unfounded doubts. Of course he would know: this man practically idolized her- it wouldn't be surprising if he had just stumbled upon information of her during his exploration of Gensokyo, and learnt of her circumstances that way. The advice was also fine for what it was, and she could appreciate her fellow God's concerns.

"I control my emotions just fine, Katsuragi. Now how about you leave; I do like my privacy when I shower."

"I'll sit here and meditate, then."

Kanako stopped.

Keima just smiled.

Kanako blinked.

Keima tilted his head to the side.

Kanako shook her head and shot utter confusion at him.

Keima whistled.

"OI, I am being very, very serious here," Kanako muttered, almost with burning acidity in her voice, at her younger colleague, "Are you so entranced with me that you're actually going to peek in open daylight."

"Don't worry," he waved it off, much to her utter shock as he walked away, oh so brazenly, and settled down on a spot overlooking the great lake, "I won't peek. Besides, I have something to speak to you about, later."

She readied herself to pull the man away, but his adamance made her hesitate, much to her self-depreciating annoyance. She palmed her face, which had bloomed a shade of light red. Was she being prompted to shower, naked, with the man sitting right there, RIGHT THERE? The embarrassment was unbearable. She wondered whether or not to trust the man from being NOT lecherous; what if his fanaticism for her bloomed into dangerous desires? What if he was preparing to do something totally disgraceful to her? What if he peeked at intervals so she would never 'notice'?

And then she remembered the mirror on her chest.

Ah, this could work! She began considering the possibility: what better way to relieve stress than beat someone who brimmed with reasons for violence to be done against him?

Hmm, yes, that did sound very enticing. If he peeked, then it would not only grant rise to suspicions of his actual nature, but also reason for her to 'punish' him. Yes, very nice.

Slowly, and instinctive in hesitation, she took off her articles of clothing, placed them on a nearby stool, and began her wash. Her mirror, she propped it on the natural dirt wall close by, and she scrupulously watched as the reflection of the God of Games projected itself on the disk.

The first dumping of water. She kept her eyes open and on the mirror.

Nothing.

She pouted. That wasn't enough to quell her doubts, so... second bucket. Her hair was starting to lose their fluff and cascade down her back.

Still no activity.

Third.

Nothing.

Fourth.

Nothing.

All-natural shampooing.

Nothing.

All-natural body-soaping.

Nothing.

Rinsing.

Nothing.

Second rinsing.

 _Oh for Heaven's sake!_

Kanako dunked her pail to the floor. By this point, she swore the boy wasn't even breathing!

Was he… did he really not look!? He must have, but her observations proved a resounding 'no, he's innocent'. How baffling was that?! She had convinced herself of the certainty of his curiosity, so... why wasn't he curious? Was he that devout a man? Was she just not pretty to look at? What, he didn't like looking at an old War God's bo-

Gah, stop it! Now she was sounding like some exhibitionist who wanted to be seen, and that wasn't what she was going for! Oh, this was so stupid, so, so stupid.

Drying herself with a towel and tying her hair into a tail, she slipped her body back into her clothes and pinned her helpful mirror back on. She marched to the boy, folded her arms in a most imposing of fashion, and asked, a glare and frown on her face, "You didn't peek, did you?"

She waited for his answer. A second passed.

Then another.

Five seconds later, and Kanako was confused enough to cock her head and mutter a 'hmm?' at his uncanny silence.

"Katsuragi, are you listening?"

She leaned forward to investigate. Was he asleep? No, it couldn't be... was he so deep into his meditation that he basically left his body or something of the sort? Did it even work that way? No matter the reason, she had to know. This strange behavior was unnatural for someone so obsessed as him, and she didn't want to know that she had gotten him killed somehow. And she couldn't go to Eientei if he was actually sick- the Tengu would never let her off the mountain.

"Katsuragi? Katsuragi!?"

Her sight crested over his shoulders.

And that was when she noticed the headgear he was wearing, and the PFP in his two proactive hands.

Kanako froze. All enthusiasm in her face faded into white.

She looked at him like a person would to a duck quaking 'AFLAC' rather than... well, 'quack'.

And then, much to her unprepared body's surprise, Keima suddenly pulled off the accessory and turned to her, almost as if on cue. The eyes he donned sent shivers down her body, and she couldn't help but step back. That, though, had the added effect of her realizing the embarrassing nature of it all, and she quickly corrected her posture and averted her gaze from him.

"You..." she muttered, letting her words role down her shoulder, "Should know that I don't like followers who aren't capable of listening. Your gaming habit just makes everything all the more infuriating."

He didn't answer. The dreamy-eyed young God, instead, stood up, diverting her curious eyes back to him.

He, with voice far and deep in wizened narration, asked her a question, and the words blew past her like caressing wind. She didn't know why, but at that moment, she couldn't answer. She expected no questions.

"Do you want me to help you convince the Tengu?"

The morning sun rose from the horizon, but PFP screen had already shone through the dawn with its credit screen.

O - O - O - O

She first answered with a hesitant 'no thanks'.

He answered with: "Please, to show you my thanks, I wish to help you in your negotiations."

She then answered with a doubtful 'you know politics'?

He answered with: "I've been a master debater and negotiator, many, many times (In games, that is)."

She finally asked why.

He answered with:

"I felt your suffering. Please don't withhold such things from your fellow Gods, especially one who wants to help."

The last one had been followed up with other smaller questions, but he didn't consider those important enough to be included in his conscious memory. By the third answer, he was sure of her convinced state, and all he could do now was...

Well, this:

Keima took one glance at Kanako as he paced around in her chambers, and noted her look of curiosity at his plans. He, the one out of the pair who was standing, loomed on the other half of the room, whilst the Goddess sat at where she resided. He pulled out a scroll- courtesy of Komachi, who hid, totally invisible, right beside him- and a brush- also courtesy of Komachi, ink included- and began painting on the canvas.

"Having a problem with negotiating good terms with reclusive Youkai? Then you've come to the right place!" He posed as he presented to her the full glory what he had calligraphed on the paper. Kanako's face scrunched into one of bafflement.

"Katsuragi's... Court of Convincing?"

A drop of ink dripped on to the floor.

"YES! Katsuragi's Court of Convincing! Where we- and I mean I- aim to help you get the best out of your deal!"

Kanako deadpanned, clearly unimpressed. She was starting to doubt all this he was presenting her, and Keima's smile shuddered at the thought.

Komachi squinted with scruple. He didn't see it, per se, but he surely felt it come from beside him.

 _Oi, oi, stop it with the faces, both of you! I'm getting there!_

"First of all, we need to understand your situation," he explained, all prim and proper in the most caricature of ways. Drawing the crude image of Kanako's face and an ugly looking crow on the empty space of the scroll, he then continued, "You had a feud with the Tengu! Knowing this, we should start from there: so, what happened?"

The Goddess pouted, placing a hand on her chin as she considered his touchy question. He actually didn't want her to answer favorably, and she gave him just that.

"Look," Kanako gestured a doubting palm at him, face smiling to accommodate for the disappointment she had expected from him, "I'm not telling you to throw away your worries of me, but I doubt you'll have any effect on the outcome between the Shrine and the Tengu order-"

"Ah," Keima had an epiphany, "It was really embarrassing, wasn't it?"

She snickered at the assumption. Inwardly, he frowned. She was dodging the issue, here. A purely denialistic stance. As expected.

"Look, it's not… it's nothing of the sorts. There's a lot of tension, right now, and-"

"Tension? Why?" he asked in his conscientious effort in trying to portray himself in a stubborn light. Kanako faltered at his insistence, seeming shocked that he didn't get the message, and that served as effective motivation. "Who said what?"

"Wait, wha-?"

"Why did they say it?"

"Keima, you're going too fast."

"What led up to the exchange?"

"It was just a normal meeting when they-"

"What's at stake here?"

"I think you kno-"

"I can answer the last one: working relations between the Tengu and the Shrine, and the Shrine itself. With that in mind, understanding the arguments of the Tengu **and** those from you can very much lead us to victory-"

"I **know** that!"

It wasn't the exclamation that brought him to silence. It was the splintered wood.

Donning a face of surprise, he took his eyes off his scroll and all the new images he had haphazardly scrawled on its surface, and turned towards the Goddess. A blistering glare was now on Kanako's face, but even as she aired her frustrations through sheer, static body language, he stared back, only slightly fazed, a slight hint of faux curiosity developing in his elevated eyebrows and educated frown.

Whatever she was doing, he noticed that it was making it harder to breathe.

But then she faltered. Her eyes grew wider, and she inhaled sharply, her torso seizing with a shudder. She drew her fist back from the splintered floor and refused to look at him. Her knuckles were scratched, and she instantly hid them into her dress.

Keima hardened his gaze. Something was wrong.

"I'm sorry," Kanako's breathless voice began, "But… Don't think I'm stupid, or anything, Katsuragi."

"Lady Kanako… I don't," he cooed, a sad pout on his face.

She grimaced. That was when he noticed the dash of pallidity coloring her face. He looked down, to see the fabric around her beaten fingers darkened, and wondered what he could trigger with that.

"You're bleeding."

He pointed out, walking towards her, but before he could go far, Kanako finally looked at her hand.

Horror.

Her face flashed horror at the sight.

 _Huh?_

A familiar hand came upon his shoulder and stopped him.

He couldn't see it, but he could feel a breath at his cheek. Komachi's mouth pulled itself close to his ears. She whispered to him, in a low, fearing voice, "You… should know: Gods don't bleed."

Keima felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face.

 _W-well… Touhou never specified that aspect, so…_

It couldn't be anything else: the Runaway Spirit was, quite literally, screwing with her Godhood.

 _Play it safe._

 _Act like you don't know._

Her shivering, in body and breath, grew till he could clearly see it in his distant spot. She looked like she was about to slip and fall. What would her little dotting God think if he saw the blood, knew that Gods didn't bleed, and screamed 'You're not a God'?

Drawing the next route ahead in his mind, he pushed off Komachi's still-touching hand, and continued his move forward. "Get me gauze." He murmured the order to the Shinigami before he departed. When he was just a few more steps away from Kanako's sitting figure, he uttered, "Let me see-"

She pulled away. "N-no, I'm fine. I can handle it-"

"As your loving disciple, I wanna help!" God of Games Katsuragi Keima objected to her objection, taking her aback with the energy as he dashed forward. Grabbing her hand, he pulled it away from her protection, and looked closely at it, with much false scruple. It was a simple problem of peeled skin and splinters, but nonetheless Kanako's fan wanted to leave no spot unchecked.

The Avatar of the Mountains, Kanako, had no conscious idea as to why it was so, but her face reddened at the proximity between them. Then, the expression broke and retreated into squinting and teeth-baring as he pulled out a wooden spur without her notice.

It hurt.

It **hurt**.

Kanako hadn't felt her own blood before, or… perhaps she had, before her ascension, but that was close to two millenniums back in time. That… she didn't know…

She was, at least, relieved that this new God still had not the faintest idea of how Gods and bodily fluids worked. Yes, on one hand it meant that he was far too young a God, but, on the other hand, it meant that she still had his… she supposed 'undying faith'. If she were to lose a fan of hers now, she didn't know what she would do.

Something was happening to her, that was for sure. And Kanako herself couldn't blame anyone but the Tengu and their effective cutting off from society as a whole. The relentless _bastards_ were going to starve the Shrine out, if they continued on in their current path, and she lamented the day where that demise would come ringing. She had to protect those in the Shrine, and if she couldn't, then what was the use?

Kanako reacted rather nonchalantly as Keima slipped out a piece of cloth from nowhere. Some Gods could do that: conjure up small trinkets and such from nowhere. Wrapping it in makeshift fashion on her hand, he stopped the flow, and bound her fingers together. He let go, and she now could see her hand in full display.

What were the Tengu going to say to that?

Kanako nodded a show of thanks before she veered her gaze away, sighing at the earnest effort he projected through his eyes, that look an oldie like her would never find solace in when looking straight at it. She would only see that in the young, and Suwako, and sometimes in Sanae, but for her to don it? She would never, lest for some reason she grew far too ecstatic for her own good. It was too farfetched, too… 'young', and much too free from the responsibilities of the world. Perhaps that was what videogames could do to people: make them forget those so-called responsibilities, shed their common sense, and lead them to some far-off fantasy most would never grasp till they saw it.

Now why did the first sight of Gensokyo resurface from within her?

"Are you okay?" Katsuragi's voice took her out of her thoughts. She looked up from where she had been looking at, and-

She lurched back. Why was the boy so close?!

"Ah, y-yes," she answered in a stutter, pushing her retreated spine back up, "Yes, I… I'm perfectly fine. Don't underestimate a God who's lived for millennia, Katsuragi."

"Sorry." He looked dejected.

She sighed. Scratching the back of her head, she then uttered to him, "Please understand: I appreciate your gesture."

Ah, now he was looking at her like a God. Not that she wasn't one, but that wasn't what she was going for.

"I'm still not at all comfortable with disclosing anything to you."

Now he's all sad-looking. What an expressive man.

Her bound fist tightened, however. It reminded her of her fleeting time.

"You may leave. I wish to meditate by myself. I'm confident that today will change."

He pouted sadly in response. At that, she shrugged, some bout of sympathy reaching out to him. She supposed he did need some sort of tangible reward for his troubles. He did make her morning rather interesting, for a change… even if the exhilaration from it was being buried by the desperation seeping from her hand.

Her heart strained in the weight, but she had to keep him oblivious and docile. The probability of him dabbling in this and causing him to blame himself for the possible missteps were troublingly high.

And so, for his deeds, she gave him a pat on the head.

"If you want to please me, then go wake up the others and eat your breakfast."

She felt her warm smile strain from the trepidations of the inevitable.

"Young Gods like you should be more proactive. You've got to get your faith **somewhere** , and not from proposing to other Gods, okay?"

Katsuragi grimaced at her little jab, coaxing a little giggle to come out of her. She slid her hand off his head, and, taking it as a sign, he stood up, took his scroll and brush, and without another word left the room and her.

When she heard no more footsteps on the flooring, she tiredly turned to the sky, and pursed her lips and eyes.

Her hand stung. Her heart stung. Her everything hurt. The pressure of the Tengu meeting was starting to take its cumbrous toll on her. Looking at her hand, she began to contemplate the terrors of losing the Shrine; a disappearing Suwako; a Shrine Maiden without a place to call home; a broken God who'd seen the inevitable come upon his role model in front of his eyes.

 _No, stop it._

She straightened back up, a roiling resolve bubbling through.

 _You can't just give up now._

Taking a deep breath, she began to think, to formulate her arguments and suggestions.

She couldn't lose this shrine. She just couldn't fail anymore. This was her battle, and she was in a waltz, on the loosest thread, above a boil of minerals.

Slowly, she felt her confidence returning. Good. She needed it.

She had to win. She had to make the Tengu realize that their broken deal was the worst decision in their lives. She would come through those doors, she told herself, and exude power and control like no one else. For a God is a prideful entity, and no one will stop them.

And, off in the distance, Katsuragi Keima sighed, perfectly encapsulating her train of thought with mere character stats in his predictions.

Hadn't anyone told her that a pride once lost, is a pride unable to attain victory from their victor?

Perhaps not.

"Hey, Shrine Maiden, get up and make me some food: God's orders!"

Sanae screamed. Not that she had a nightmare or anything and coincidentally woke up at the same time as he spoke: instead, she had been in the process of changing.

Komachi slapped him in the back of his head for not knocking beforehand. He never learnt from Eiki's capture, did he?


	18. Storm Brewing

At the point of day's span when the winds of Gensokyo blew their calmest caresses and the sun sung high above within the serendipitous clouds of Youkai Mountain, Yasaka Kanako began her departure to the Tengu Settlement.

"T-take care, Lady Kanako," the Shrine Maiden, Sanae, said as she watched her Goddess fly down into the foliage, smiling the moment she noticed Kanako's erect thumb in answer to her blessing. Suwako, standing beside her, waved her condolences as well, but then at the first sign of being able to put her arm down and the knowledge that the green-haired girl wasn't looking, she shot a glare at Keima, who, standing beside her, still in his morning yukata, was waving casually alongside them.

Now, aside from the lazing of the morning, why wasn't he working on getting that vengeful invader out of her? Since this morning, she'd been pestering him for details over what he was going to do, all to no avail! Now Kanako was off to see the Tengu, with that… thing still hiding inside! And by the looks of it, he'd done absolutely nothing!

Why wasn't he doing anything?

Was he just lazy? Did he not care?

Ooh, she was so close to just threatening him with her Mishaguji, she could just do it right here and now, if she had to!

God, on the other hand, slipped a hand into his pocket. Pulling out a PFP, he ignored the insult-driven anger from Sanae and the gobsmacked look from the frog girl, and started playing. Cute little jingles flowed from its speaker.

"Hey," Sanae chided to him with a scowl, "Your crush's going off to determine the fate of the Moriya Shrine, and you're just gonna... play your stupid games!?"

Suwako had to agree on that point. In other news, Kanako being his 'crush' did get a chuckle out of her.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the PFP declared to the world:

"Thank you for playing~!"

A song, starting off with a crescendo of powerful pianos, began to fill the air. Sanae flinched when the first words hit, and Suwako beaded him with a glare, the timing making it seem almost impossible for it to be a coincidence. It seemed almost mocking.

Keima, face scrunching up with irritation, turned away from his beloved device to face the Shrine Maiden. In a grumble, he hissed, "Man, you're a lot more annoying than I'd ever expect."

"Well, that's cos' I don't trust you at all! What's with that stupid attitude of yours? You're just like Reimu!"

His glare hardened, and the look of disgust only frustrated her even more.

"Who's this Shrine Maiden insulting a God? I was just finishing up my game that I had to pause to say goodbye to Kanako."

"Oh, still calling yourself a God? There's no way! I'm still on to you-!"

"Please stop, I don't want to argue with anyone over anything today…"

Sanae deadpanned at his excuse. As if he had the right to say that; Kanako should be the one continuing her recuperating, not him.

Before she could say anything, though, a PFP came her way. Instinctively opening her palm to let it land on them, she quickly snapped her attention to the pitcher who, to her speechless surprise, began moving forward- no words at all as to where- and down the shrine's steps. Flabbergasted, her mouth stammered so hard that it couldn't raise complaints, ask him where he was going, or even form simple words.

Suwako intervened. The Goddess herself was curious, and when she wanted answers, she was going to get it.

"Hey, Kanako's 'husband'!" she called mockingly, a pout on her face. That struck a nerve on the man, because he turned around with an agitated glower on his face. "Where're you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?"

At first, the hint didn't get to her. What high-context indication was he trying to pull? Suwako presumed, correctly, that the Shrine Maiden didn't know, so to say that specifically to her? With her body still stoic and unmoving on its place, she began to think. For a bit, she juggled with some ideas; if he could go through the Tengu to get here, then it meant that he had ways of crossing Tengu lands. And that meant…

Suwako's eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

So he was still doing his job, huh?

"Ah, I see, I see," she nodded, garnering her a gasp and look of utter bewilderment from Sanae. "But are you sure you can go there?"

"Of course," he answered, no hesitation in his voice, "I was there last night."

Suwako paused. Then she giggled, and finally she went into hysteria. Sanae stared into the throat of the guffawing God, almost dying from the shock of watching her chortling ancestor, and the sheer confusion of the situation did little to dampen the blow.

Suwako couldn't believe it. She was far too wrong about him, wasn't she? What was this man that Yakumo had sent him, to be able to enter, or perhaps infiltrate, Tengu territory without even a scratch and an eagerness to do it all over again.

Finishing her laughter, she looked down at Keima, and said, with a grin on her froggy face, "Have fun not eating lunch made by Kochiya, here!"

"WHAT!? Y-YOU'RE JUST GONNA GO EAT LUNCH!?"

Keima nodded in acceptance, a returning smile on his face. Turning to the bottom of the steps, he continued his descent, the pair watching as the breeze picked up and blew at their follicles. Suwako exhaled from the relief squeezing her lungs. She gently slapped the fretting Shrine Maiden out of her panic.

"Sanae." Little Moriya turned back to the shrine.

"Y-yeah?"

"As your oldest living relative, I should discipline you over disrespecting a fellow God."

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAA-!?"

Pyonta landed on her head.

Suddenly, she was lifted off the ground by the upside-down flower pot hat with googly-eyes, and transported alongside the strolling little Goddess. She struggled, but when it came to no avail, like all those times before, she grew limp, and waited as the sentient saucer kept on flying.

Suwako giggled when a rather entertaining thought came to her head. Katsuragi didn't need to know about Pyonta. That, she'll make the effort to assure, so that, maybe, when the day came where he would find out, she'd make so much merriment out of his shock.

Maybe today, she'd see Kanako smile, again.

O - O - O - O

Katsuragi Keima turned around, to find both of the Shrine's denizens to have left. Away from their eyes, he walked a few more steps down, before suddenly, to the confusion of perhaps the watchers from beyond the plain, he deviated into the trees beside the Shrine. Pushing aside the bushes, he stumbled into a small clearing and began to scan his surroundings. In here, the wind did not come: the leaves did not rustle, and yet, in the corner of his eyes, the faintest cracking of branches could be heard.

Someone else was here. And whoever it was-

And then Himekaidou Hatate stumbled out of the brush.

"Ah, there you are," Keima stated nonchalantly at her rather dirty entrance, noting a few pieces of tree stuff snagged on her clothes and twintails. "Are you going to say 'I can't believe it, you're right~! You ARE a God~!'?"

Hatate clicked her tongue at his demeaning mimicry as she patted away the foliage. "Look, knowing you're a God or not doesn't change anything, especially after I've already agreed to help you!" She planted both fists on her sides, an imposing look if not for that one branch still stuck on her hair that she'd missed. "Besides, just seeing you get accepted into the Moriya Shrine last night was already mind-blowing enough. In any case, I can really just tell you everything, you know? That's at least a WHOLE lot safer than… whatever it was you wanted to do."

Keima sighed at the sensible statement, before chiding:

"I was planning to see it, anyways. Don't get your hopes up."

Hatate sighed at his insistence, slapping a palm on her forehead in fatigued disbelief. "You are such a strange anomaly in Gensokyo, you know that? I've never even heard of you, and here you are, convincing me to help you in this crazy stunt."

He simply shrugged in response.

Last night's session had ended after an exorbitant amount of time, but when it was over, he made what he supposed was a 'compromise', or something like that. Instead of hearing it from her, she would, instead, NOT tell her side of the story, in exchange for something else. Something key to the operations at hand.

Looking rather rushed, Hatate handed to him a set of key items for what was to come.

"Come on, put these on. Don't worry, I used those last time, so you'd smell like a Tengu. The White Wolf Tengus won't notice a thing."

Here was the time for God to shed that Godhood, for now, in this very present hour, where the sun shone through the gaps within the clouds, and the breeze picked up in pace, God was not God. God was Katsuragi Keima.

And Keima was going to disguise as a Tengu and see, for himself, the true problem in this relationship.

Placing the signature hat on his head and feeling it till it fit in the perfect spot on his head- to the interest of the Tengu, who looked on in vested interest of his appearance- he collected himself, and sharpened the blade that was his gaze.

"Now, let's go…"

"Why does this smell? Do you even take showers?" Keima complained as he took a whiff of his underarm, or, more precisely, the underarm of Himekaidou's clothes, much to the owner's irritation and red-faced embarrassment.

"I-it's a few days old, okay?" She stopped focusing on his complaints, noticing how he looked to be shaking somewhat. "U-um, your balance doesn't look that-"

Expectedly, Keima tripped from the unfamiliarity of his immense geta. Arms outstretched, his two palms, unlike any ecchi protagonist's own, missed her chest, narrowly avoided her checkered skirt, and, instead, landed on her toes.

Good thing this didn't become any-

Actually, I wrote too soon:

Hatate, now imbalanced on her geta, fell straight on top of him.

O - O - O - O

"Um…"

Komachi sipped on her tea. The serene atmosphere, the familiar air, the fascinating décor, all of it just spoke to her, y'know? It was so nice to be here, like… like a second home you really want to go back to. The pets kept here were pretty cute- Eiki never allowed pets, so, even after centuries of living, the idea of keeping pets was still novel to her- and the one person living in this mansion, a good friend of hers, was happy to appease.

"S-Shinigami?"

"What?" said Shinigami snapped in retaliation, the mood in the atmosphere broken by the insisting calls of the Hermit.

Ibaraki Kasen blinked with a confused expression on her face. She had been in her room, taking a break from the day to sip tea and relax, when the Shinigami entered unannounced, from thin air, as well! and started taking her tea for herself. She hadn't even the time to react properly to her entrance, and without any idea of what to do, she just... let her stay. Sitting there. Right in front of her. Maybe she should say something.

A-anyways, just how in all the levels of Hell did she just pop up out of nowhere? If she had just entered through the door, she'd at least throw the teapot at her in anger and reflex, but to just appear… She had no response other than the uncanny acceptance of it all. She looked at the door- IT WASN'T EVEN OPEN!?

"Hey, Hermit."

Kasen turned away from the Shinigami, much to her confusion, if only because she found herself very frightened of her presence. What was with the weird, flowing cloud-like thing? What was that skull-shaped badge on her right breast? Why was she even here with them? And look at the badge, shaped like a skull. So morbid.

Morbid.

Skull?

Death…

Dea-?

Kasen stopped breathing. The Hermit tensed. Her stomach shrunk and crumpled.

Was Komachi standing in for a kishin?

Kishin… They kill Hermits, right? Those that live too long are sent a Kishin Chief from Hell who'll assassinate them. A-and she hadn't seen one in quite a while, now... Oh no… could it be…

Komachi took another sip of her tea.

Ah, how nice~ She'd always sniff out this very scent when she had to go and survey Kasen's activity. The good stuff; the thing that can take your mind off guys named Katsuragi Keima and allocate it to the important things, like enjoying your break.

Yes, she was pretty worried about whatever could happen to the guy without her around. Would the Tengu find him out? Would Hatate become an associate? Would he die? Then again, he did reassure her that he was going to be fine, and the man's assurances were nowhere less than really, really convincing; heck, those 'assurances' she was thinking about had a resume to boot.

In any case, it at least took her off worrying for his life. Now she could sit with her buddy-buddy Kasen and talk the day away- something she needed, right now.

That was, of course, until Kasen punched her in the face.

"YOU'LL NEVER KILL ME!"

And so came the imbalanced matchup of Hisoutensoku and Antimony of Common Flowers mechanics.


	19. Snakes Beneath the Eagle's Talons

Inubashiri Momiji had hoped, prayed to whoever was applicable of the prayer she was sending out, that she wouldn't meet that War God again.

It was a natural reaction for a wolf with a broken pride, especially since today she wasn't even going to be at her usual post. She had been given the express opportunity to act as the bodyguard for today's meeting with the Moriya Shrine's God, something that came rarely, though usually didn't come with any privileges or bragging rights, and, remembering the tales of a War God's tenacity and brazen insistence when it came to aiding their fellow allied Gods, she was terrified of his, admittedly unwanted- by everyone- presence in the meeting. Yes, the other White Wolves would protest his inclusion, but, knowing the craftiness of Gods, he'd find his way in, and he'd do it with her.

Blackmail?

Public execution by shame and embarrassment?

A doggy bone to spite her?

Oh, that made Momiji scream inwardly.

"Inubashiri?" A concerned voice entered her ears and a hand came upon her shoulder. She awoke from the fright, and found that she'd been standing right outside Lord Tenma, the ruler of the Tengu's, palace, stationed there to do her job alongside one of the other Wolf Tengus. Hopelessly trying to hide her fluster, she stammered out a 'yes?' in response, earning her a perturbed look from the other.

"Is something bothering you?"

Throwing out a chuckle, she answered, "N-no, I'm fine. I'm… rather excited for today."

Her ally, evidently, didn't share the same sentiment. "There's nothing exciting about the Moriya coming down trying to defend themselves. Haven't you heard about what that Goddess did in front of Lord Tenma?"

"Not really…" she scratched her cheek, bashful of her lack of learnedness, "I wasn't that interested, and Shameimaru didn't say much."

Well, actually she did. She said a lot. And she frankly didn't want to remember any of it, much less hear it in the first place.

It wasn't long before the Goddess arrived, escorted beneath the shadow of an accompanying troupe of towering Great Tengu. To Momiji's relief, that War God was not with her. Instead, behind them were a line of the long-nosed Hanataka Tengu, noses raised particularly high in the air, then the scribes in the form of the Crow Tengu- she caught a wave from Aya when they passed by- and lastly a small contingency of Wolf Tengu, with most of them overseeing the meeting on the inside, just in case anything went astray.

The sight of Yasaka's leer as she passed by her confused the Wolf Tengu. Last she had heard, the meeting before had whittled down her position in the mountain's hierarchy; shouldn't there be some sliver of humbleness to compensate for that? If she went in like that, the leading Tengu might as well not bother.

Then, suddenly, from the distance, when it seemed that all who were attending were already inside, climbing the steps up to Lord Tenma's quarters, two little white things appeared in the distant road, and they were coming closer.

Momiji swapped a doubting glance with the other Wolf Tengu.

"I… I'll stand guard. You handle it."

It wasn't Momiji that said it. It was her companion.

Momiji deadpanned.

Thanks for the support.

Well, it was in her job description, so she might as well do it. Walking towards the approaching pair, she held her hand up and instructed: "Halt, you two. Lord Tenma is presently in a meeting with the Goddess of the Moriya Shrine." They stopped, and she continued, "I suggest you two come back another time, if you're here to meet with the leader."

When her dialogue was all and done, she turned around, and proceeded to walk back. What else was she to say other than the practiced verse? Besides, there was no way they would suddenly jump her with her back turned. That was not the Tengu way; they would listen, and not ask any questions. She shot a look at her partner, a disappointed frown accompanying it-

"Then we'll play Shogi one more time."

Momiji stopped.

Momiji blinked.

Momiji contemplated.

Momiji inhaled deeply.

Momiji looked to the sky.

Momiji shed a single, lone tear.

Momiji wanted to die.

If there was a Tengu slang equivalent to the eloquent word that was 'fuck', she would be screaming that right now.

Shakily, and in the deepest of trepidations, she turned around to face him. There was the War God from yesterday, this time without his glasses, in one of the Tengu's hooded garbs, and staring deeply into her glancing eyes. She almost wanted to just up and cut him in half just so the secret would stay as such.

And then the unmistakable scent of Aya's self-proclaimed newspaper rival right next to him entered her nose.

Ah… so he's made Hatate his servant…

Someone please dig her grave, right now, because she wanted the Earth to hug her to sleep.

"Y-yes…" her complacent, yet hollow croaks blew away in the stillness of the Tengu caverns; eyes shrunken, bags heavy, anxious smile betraying all she felt inside. "P-please, don't m-mind us… A-and please don't tell anyone… Please?"

"Thank you." He gave her the sweetest, most fake smile in the world, and then raised his hand so that, when he moved forward, it would pat on her stomach. She couldn't even react to it; she was paralyzed with such fear that her brain turned senile for that moment. She gave an 'oomph' when his hand did collide on her, but, instead of something familiar to a one-inch punch, she instead felt the familiar hardness of coins.

The cold touch of the coins burnt at her hands.

He was paying her for her obedience.

The bribe of a great General to the mercenaries of the enemy army.

The War God went on, but Hatate lingered behind, a regretful curving in her brows. She leaned in close to the Wolf Tengu, and whispered hesitantly:

"U-um, y-you should know… uh, he told me about you… and him…"

There was silence for a moment, and then:

"Why?"

"E-er, I don't really… Look, I've gotta- He can't see that well, s-so-"

"Why did you have to make it sound like we're both in a relationship?"

Hatate stared at the wreck, her face contorted into one of shock and bafflement. Slowly, she stepped aside, and quickly marathon-walked towards the God, helpless to the Wolf Tengu who froze in place.

Momiji just wanted to leave.

"Hey, Inubashiri?"

Oh yeah…

 **SOMEONE WAS WATCHING THE WHOLE THING NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

"That was Hatate, right? Who's the other man? You went rigid when he spoke… what was with that reaction-?"

Coins dropped. Her sword came down on the path. Momiji slammed her maple-crested shield into her face.

The other Wolf Tengu poker-faced at the sight.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

The White Wolf Tengu's muffled screams sounded so sad.

"Can't be… that was your lover?"

"MMMMMMMMMMMM!?"

"Then… someone you're interested in?"

"MMMMMMMMM!"

"Oh, so you do have one? Wouldn't want to have Aya knowing about that: it'd be in her front page for years- that is, until you two decide to marry, in which case she'll put that on the front page until you have your first baby bath, then your first baby, then your second, then maybe third, and… now that I think about it, how many children do you want? I've been asking that to all the other Tengu, the other day, and I realized just then that I haven't asked you."

Momiji, on the ground, face buried into her defensive option, kicked the dust into the air like a pinned child struggling for dear life.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

"That's a lot."

O - O - O - O

Katsuragi Keima had good reasons not to put on his spectacles.

"To come back into my abode with such a confident air, especially after the humiliation you've inflicted upon yourself…"

The fabled Lord Tenma's voice. A man. Peculiar.

"I find it quite distasteful…"

Angered hums, all across the room. Validation.

"Hmph, a God must keep their image, Lord Tenma."

Yasaka Kanako.

"True. I suppose that is one argument you will succeed in."

Haughty laughter from the other side. Very loud, boisterous, cocky.

"Please save the humor for later. We should start."

"Mmm, yes, a sound suggestion."

Something's knocking. A drum? Whoever was playing it was making a tune one could only describe as archaic, of the highest age in tradition.

"Let us bring back the motion we've argued previously: I have heard from my retainers, time and time again, that the Tengu order finds your… 'intrusive methods' of bringing in followers extremely aggravating."

"Yes, that's true, but we've made compromises before, and you accepted them. The Ropeway; the protection of the Wolf Tengu; our blessings that, as I remember you clearly saying, would 'benefit us all'-!"

"Cease your volume."

Beatings of the taiko drum.

"Times have changed, Yasaka. Our traditions are under pressure because of your methods, and we have come to the notion that whatever blessings you bestow on this mountain, its benefits do not outweigh what has been lost. Our White Wolf Tengu forces are stretching thin from protecting the settlement and your… precarious piece of technology. The Kappa disrupt the environment. Humans are starting to prod at how far into our territory they can enter. The situation is causing chaos for the Tengu. The settlement fears that your plans for a more… accessible Youkai Mountain will have an adverse, irreversible effect on those who live here, traditions or otherwise."

"I see no evidence of this potential future, then and now. What you're speaking of is fearful dribble, of some future that, I'm assuring you here and now, won't happen. And if it does, why can you all not just adapt to it?"

"We have, but the consensus speaks for itself. The Great Tengu wish for your operations halted completely. The Hanataka Tengu want your influences with the Kappa and those in the Underground cut. The ordinary Tengu of the village do not want you trespassing upon our traditions any longer."

"Do they think a God would just throw aside their dreams just because some unofficial ballot tells them to?"

"Don't pride yourself over your status, Yasaka."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We never utter it, for we have no more masters to serve since the Oni, but Tengu kind respect Gods who stand on their own two feet. That is a moniker you, Yasaka Kanako, have lost."

Agreements around the room. Squabbling. Unanimous.

He hated the atmosphere.

"S-surely, you can ignore one simple error on my part."

Voice shaking. Something was welling.

Deep breath.

"That error, Yasaka, is one no Tengu can forget. Those that have seen it have spread its shameful effect around the settlement. Your image, frankly, is in ruins."

"That's because you didn't even try to hide it!"

"Stave your tongue!"

Furious sidings in the Tengu. No calm voice in the room. It was getting hard to even hear the discussion.

"I will not lash out upon my own kind for the sake of someone like you. You see yourself too high for your own good, Yasaka, and that is a trait we once found endearing and assuring, but now, to not even discard such simple behavior in the presence of your judges; now that is disgraceful."

"Gods are inherently prideful! Don't you dare think otherwise!"

"Oh, no we don't. But a God trying to please an order of Youkai as powerful as us? We expected some humbleness, but I suppose even Gods are not safe from the unreasonable."

The clacking of standing getas, of wooden soles on wooden flooring. Tengu were standing. That, he could see, for the giant Great Tengu were the largest blobs in his blurry sight, and they were cresting over with their two undefined arms in the air.

Screaming. Cheering. Taunts being thrown.

His heart tightened.

"L-Lord Tenma, please, you must reconsider your judgement of the Shrine. I-it's important that the Moriya Shrine continues to nurture this mountain! If you throw that away, then what is left?"

"What is left is less disruption of the natural order of Youkai Mountain."

More screaming, even more agreeing.

Everything in the background stirred itself into a predictable blend of blurry cacophonies and opinions that failed to register, or even matter.

How could anyone listen to this?

"Under your complaints-"

"Under the Tengu's complaints, Yasaka. I am not the selfish one, here."

"And neither am I! Resolving these issues would mean moving the Shrine, as you said in the last gathering, a-and I clearly can't do that! And you NEED a God on Youkai Mountain! After all these years, the mountain has acclimated to the presence of the Moriya Shrine; to just kick us out would force the mountain's energy to weaken for years, and that isn't something you, nor the Kappa, the Yamanba, or any of the Youkai in this mountain would want!"

"Then we'll nominate the Autumn Goddesses for the role."

Hmm?

Laughter fills the room. They, though, weren't laughing at the joke, because it wasn't a joke.

"W-what?"

"Yes, the Aki sisters would do nicely. They've gifted me this splendid hauchiwa fan the other day, and the design is exquisite."

The sound of someone walking, clacking their feet entered his ears.

"Have you ever gifted me anything, Yasaka?"

"T-that's because I was busy-!"

"Gaining the possessions that only you would profit from! The Tengu do appreciate their gifts of the Autumn harvests. We are certain that they would delight themselves in the offer, and that the mountain would prosper if that is to be so-"

"I will not MOVE MY SHRINE OUT OF YOUKAI MOUNTAIN, ESPECIALLY NOT FOR THE LIKES OF THOSE TWO LESSER GODS!"

And now the argument comes down to that. She had cornered herself; even resorted to cut off her friends, as well.

Keima grimaced.

"You don't have to. We will do as we have first proposed: evict you out of the Shrine."

And then the weights came crashing down.

"Y-you can't be-?"

"Why do you think I'm speaking of this again?"

That taiko drum, again.

"The time between our last meeting and now has not, in any ways, changed mine, or anyone's stance, in the matter. The Tengu settlement will not be disrespected upon, any longer, especially by an Outsider who, after so many years, still does not understand the climate of Gensokyo, at all. What you have brought today for the discussion has not impressed any of us, Yasaka, therefore, I-"

A loud bang. The blobby form of Kanako, in Keima's short-sighted eyes, had disappeared into the eerie white cloud of the Tengu's white garbs in the background.

The roar of the Tengu… It was volcanic. There was no other way to describe it.

There was no other possibility in his mind:

She was prostrating.

"Do you… not understand your situation, Yasaka?"

No response from beyond the blasphemy-crying.

"Don't you dare come into my abode again with that stunt."

One glance to Hatate, and all could be inferred from her face.

A part of him was terrified, too.

"P-please, I'll…"

"No, Yasaka Kanako."

…

"You will stop with this foolishness. Desperation is not a display we prefer: you should know that."

"Please… Don't take the Shrine from me…"

"This God…"

"If there is anything- anything- I can-"

The shrill knock stopped her tongue.

"Quiet, all of you."

A great thunder of sitting legs.

"You have until the first signs of Soko. Retainers, and those in audience today, remember that date well."

A peal of 'Hai's.

"We expect the Aki sisters to be greeted with an empty Shrine when the time comes, Yasaka Kanako.

"Do not think ill of us. This is for the best for Youkai Mountain and the Tengu. Where you will go after this with the other God and your Shrine Maiden, we shall have no say.

Tapping. Like the sound of a pipe on a surface.

"I suppose this is the true turning of leaves from the Outside World to Gensokyo, won't you agree?"

Why was Kanako so quiet?

Keima scrunched up his face. It couldn't be…

"Yasaka?"

She can't answer you. She's…

"Hmm... again?"

Keima's fist balled. The laughter made skin crawl, stomach squelch, and teeth clenched.

"I suppose, then, that the meeting is concluded."

The taiko booms signaled into the room.

The blurry wall of Tengu stand in attention.

"Yasaka Kanako has proven to us that she is a God not suited for the Mountain, or for the Tengu. She will leave on the first day of Soko, in which no one must accompany the Moriya in their exit. We will stabilize the erratic construction projects of the Kappa, and bring peace and tranquility for our settlement. To all Crow Tengu reporters in the room, you may feature this story in your papers for the masses so they may understand our concerns. The White Wolf Tengu, on the other hand, will prepare a squad to guard the Village if… anything is to escalate. Any objections?"

Silence. There was no movement in the room. Keima felt a hand come onto his thighs, and he heard the shifting, rubbing fabric of Hatate's garments beside him.

It was over. Lord Tenma hadn't explicitly stated it, but the Crow Tengu beside him could see the verdict to be clear as day. The others were getting restless in their place, unable to move until the highest of the Tengu permitted them to, and the atmosphere had turned stench-like for her. Her guts were in a tangle; they radiated doubt and trepidation all throughout her, not for the fact that her late entrance had warranted her the scolding of the other Tengu in attendance, and not for the fact that she had basically smuggled an Outsider into the Tengu's most prestigious building, but more so because of what they were going to do with Lady Yasaka, and her motionless body, stuck in the symbolic pittance. She couldn't bare leaving her there.

Then, as sudden as can be, her body forced her to pull back her hand. She almost gave a sharp, whistling inhale that would've surely stirred the room. Something small, yet cold had touched her!

"No objections, then?"

Her attention looked away. She hoped no one noticed her movements.

"The meeting is, therefore, officially adjourned. May you all continue on with your daily tasks, my fellow Tengu."

At that, the room stood. She quickly did the same, and tried her best to make him stand as well, but her tugging had come to nothing. At least they were near the corner, where the only empty spot was when they barged in. No one would see his non-standing form, she hoped. With the audience on their legs, they turned to Lord Tenma, still hidden and coy behind the bamboo curtain, and gave their bows, all simultaneous, all heavy with concentration of form, and all without regards for the victim of the story.

The doors were opened, helpful Wolf Tengu flanking the sides, and, first, the Great and Hanataka Tengu departed, and then lastly the Crow Tengu. The Greats were silent. The Hanataka harrumphed along the way. The Crows were ecstatic with the sales-increasing piece.

"Hey…"

She whispered to the man still on the floor.

"We're done. Get up."

Instead of moving, however, she noticed the slouched God hold a hand up to his face, a finger and his thumb clenching upon the side of his skull. Confused, and rather desperate to get out, she crouched down, and…

Well, she supposed she finally understood this God of Conquest's love for the Moriya Shrine's Goddess.

The Heroine's fall from grace. The most tragic story, usually reserved for flashbacks or immense, game-changing reveals, and he was seeing it in front of him.

Keima didn't wear his glasses, because he didn't want to stain them.

With a steady hand, he swabbed away the perspiration, and stood up, so forceful in his defiance of gravity that it even shocked Hatate to a flinch. The geta's shuddered, but his balance would not wane, and he thusly turned to the Lord of the Tengu and did something she could only answer with a pale beyond the Void.

"Lord Tenma, I request permission to escort the unconscious Yasaka Kanako back to the Moriya Shrine."

Hatate's heart leapt out of her mouth.

The Wolf Tengu, right in the process of moving the Goddess out of the room, grew plate-sized eyes.

Lord Tenma's silhouette stirred.

"The Tengu Hatate brought along. Who… might you be?"

Said Tengu wanted to scream. What was he doing!? No one spoke to Lord Tenma without proper permission in the form of a letter! It was the utmost disrespect to just up and talk to him, especially if said speaker was someone not of the Great Tengu, something the God clearly was not!

Unfazed by the question, and the searing look of shock from his accomplice, Keima exposited, "I am Miss Himekaidou's new assistant, milord, here to help her record the discussion for her article. If I may repeat, I wish to help relieve the Wolf Tengu of the duty of transporting Lady Yasaka to her Shrine."

"And why would you ask that?"

Deep exhale.

"As you know, Himekaidou's newspaper supports continuing good relations with the Moriya."

"And are you here to raise objections? Smart of you to wait for all the others to leave-"

"No, milord. We concede."

Hatate furrowed her brows, though even that changed little in the way of her wide eyes sparing the muscles no space. What was he talking about, here?

"Oh?" Lord Tenma uttered, a beckoning curiosity in his voice.

"But, and may I be selfish here-"

He couldn't finish. The Wolf Tengu, having just snapped out of their shocked trances, were upon him, their great blades at his throat. Keima almost tumbled over backwards, if not for the fact that he caught his jump with his feet firm on the floor. One of them grabbed ahold of Hatate's two hands, binding them behind her in their vice grips. She screamed. The situation started boiling over.

And then Lord Tenma ordered them to stop.

"Cease the violence, White Wolves."

Hesitantly, they sheathed their blades. Hatate fell to the floor, her hands free, but wrists painted pulsating pink.

"I respect brave men like you. To speak to me so casually, it has been a long time since I've been spoken to in such a way. All the honorifics and such, they do not suit a warrior like me, and, really, it is tiresome. The world's forgotten of how disobedient I was when I was a child, and I do yearn for those days."

Two taps of the pipe on the floor.

"You are a refreshing case, however: ask away, Hatate's assistant, and let me be the judge."

Keima pursed his lips for a moment. What a miracle, for the Tengu Lord to start listening.

The 'fearless' approach worked.

"T-thank you. We wish to bring her up, and appease the other inhabitants of the Moriya Shrine with a farewell. You won't have anything to do with this: it'll only be the two of us."

His hands clasped together, bashful and such.

"It's… just closure. We've always thought they benefited the Tengu, but I suppose if the majority think otherwise, then we have no choice."

Lord Tenma grew silent. The room waited, patient, yet in dread, for his answer.

Keima audibly gulped.

Lord Tenma waved a shooing hand.

"Go…"

The guards reached for their-

"Wolf Tengu."

The room stopped.

Keima felt relief wash over him. Hatate, who had just gotten back her jaw, threw it back down into the same abyss. The Wolf Tengu dropped theirs too.

"Hatate," he addressed to the Crow, receiving a flinch and a 'yes?' in return. The Lord knocked his pipe on the floor one more time. Hatate swore she saw a frown make it past the crevices of the bamboo curtain, yet in that moment of glancing, she felt no frustration, no anger. Just disappointment.

"See to it that your assistant does not drop her."


	20. Help Coming Late

_I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long without telling anyone. University work and exams were holding me hostage, but now that the semester's over, I can finally continue this series :3_

O - O - O - O

Komachi had been resting in Keima's room; Sanae had been sweeping the grounds; and Suwako had been observing the calm weather blowing past her on the roof when he returned. Kochiya bore witness to the returning party first, a smile on her face. It was still an early noon, not like last time when the Goddess returned at the beginning of nightfall, and so excitement was the first thing flooding into her systems when she saw the shimenawa peek from beyond the forest.

Suwako was second in the list of witnesses, at first beaming at the three as they stumbled down the stone path to the Shrine. But then the fretting of her Shrine Maiden's voice filled her ears, and the smirk flipped.

Komachi was the last one to see them, but by then, 'them' had cut down to 'him', and Katsuragi Keima looked exhausted.

"I can't see the ending."

She sighed; disappointment mixed with impersonal worry. Without much thought, she stood up, scratched the talon wound on on the left of her black eye, and hoisted her scythe."Well, what now, boss?"

"I said I can't see the ending, not the road to it."

Eyes widened. Brows rose.

Without a passing second, they mellowed, the mind acclimating to the facts, and a grin popped out of her face.

"You've been cryin', haven't ya?" remarked Komachi as her good cheer brought her observant eyes back to clarity. The man's noticeable slinking of form forced a chuckle out of her as he answered:

"What does that have to do with the capture?"

"Can't fool me," she bragged, nose held high- to his disdain, "I know tear stains when I see one. So…" She flourished her scythe for seemingly no particular reason, grazing the sides of the room, "What's the plan. It better not involve me, that much, cos I still have a quota of sleep to catch up on."

"What? You couldn't sleep before?"

"Err… it's more like 'not allowed to'…"

He suspected Kasen. He was correct.

The two quickly sat down- the most comfortable position, in troubling times- and began their exchange.

"So… the Tengu and Moriya Shrine? What'd you learn, eh?"

Before he answered, he, customarily, pulled out his PFP, and began his indulgence. Komachi didn't like the impersonality of it all, but she hadn't an outlet to complain, other than with her weirded looks.

"Well, the gap in her heart might as well be enormous, now, because she's officially being kicked out of the mountain.

She almost threw up her heart.

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

Kicked out of the mountain? T-that's insane! She'd never heard of anything that would even give the Tengu the idea!

"What date is it."

"Uh… O-October 17? I think? But what does that have to-?"

"Then we have at most six days."

She sputtered out the air in her lungs. "L-less than a week before they're leaving? Whoa, whoa, whoa, I… I don't think this will sit well with anyone, at all."

"The Tengu don't care. Their decision is final."

"H-how're you supposed to stop it, then? Doesn't look like you're gonna debate your way outta this."

"We don't."

Komachi furrowed her brows. What did that mean? That they give up on the case altogether? Call for help from New Hell?

" **But** , just because arguments are out, doesn't mean appeasing isn't."

"A… ppeasing?" Komachi parroted, one eyebrow raised, one eyebrow kept its furrow.

"'Appeasement didn't work for Hitler, but it will work for the superiors of your lover!'"

Now she stammered at the infamous man's name, "H-Hitler?"

Like a sage, he began his recitals in front of her, his fingers blazing across the PFP's button mapping.

"The Tengu are a proud Youkai!" began his lecture, "They respect themselves, each other, and other Youkai who respect them! Kanako's problem wasn't that she had terrible arguments, it was that her methods throughout the years were entrenching upon their sovereignty, something they take pride in the most, after the Oni left them and the Kappa the mountain! Because she was the character she was- the proud, thinks-she-can-do-it-all tsundere!- and didn't yield any ground, the antagonists of the story had ample reason to follow their doctrine and strike her down! In the face of these odds, the best route is to 'appease', to bribe them with so much respect and humbleness and the notion that 'I have learnt my lesson'- did I mention high-quality respect?- that they can't help but realize that the heroine has some worth in the company, after all!"

His balling fist almost looked dramatic enough to be accompanied with fireworks and the telltale clap of a self-realizing detonation in the corner. Blinking away the starry blurs in her eye, Komachi moved away his other hand's accusing finger-point, and sighed.

"This has got… nothing to do with me, then?" She… Okay, to be frank, she felt it all whiff past her, that explanation. The important thing now was that question: was she really going to rest right after Eiki's capture?

Much to her horror, he answered with a hearty, "Don't be stupid: you're gonna run some errands." Ignoring her melancholic, grieving, Jiang-Shi groans, he began to list down her work.

"First, we need some more paper and ink. Also, get me a book on Tengu traditions, and, knowing how bad you are at clothes-making, find someone who-"

"Oi, you want this fist in your face, or something?"

"I'd rather you listened, you lazy Shinigami." His grumbling, oh were they obnoxious to listen to. Groaning incomprehensible curses- straight from the lowest pits- Komachi rested her chin, weighed with the ton that constituted her frown, on the pillars called hands. A moment of silence followed, but she did little to question it. It gave her that modicum to think and plan her subsequent routines- well, outside of napping and sailing, which this job in the Runaway Spirit Squad had so easily shattered. The next few days were going to be eventful, huh?

Keima, on the other hand, hadn't continued his discussion, because something else caught his eye.

 _H-hmmm?_

He eyed his PFP.

 _My charge... when did it get to zero percent..._

A nervous sweat rolled down his face.

How long had it been like that before he noticed? In fact, that was the least of his worries: why was it still continuing? Was something prolonging the life of his trusty PFP without his knowledge? An energy of sorts? What, did the Moriya household develop wireless charging, so quickly? Sitting down, Keima saved his game, and laid it on the floo-

And then it shut down.

 _Eh?_

He blinked, too stunned to do much else. Picking it up to examine the-

The sudden brightness of the screen almost pulled him back. It'd somehow revived itself, and yet the battery life was still at nil. Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong. Gensokyo and common sense didn't mesh, so... was this the consequence?

 _Ah… don't tell me…_

Keima puckered his lips and leered at the reflection as he set his PFP on the floor once more. A nervous globule of sweat toiled through his caricatured old-man look.

 _As a 'God of Games'… I can keep my PFP alive with just my touch…?_

Isn't that… super pathetic, or something?

 _Then again, what else can I do with this 'Godhood' of mine. What, can I buy a game through just the power of my mind alone, with DLC included? Do I get bigger discounts? Can I make Yokkyun real?_

His meditation shattered when the butt of a scythe tapped, rather hard and painfully, on his back. He snapped a glare at the Shinigami.

"Oi," Keima hissed, "I was thinking, okay?"

"Ah, sorry," she apologized with a weak smile on her face, before standing back up. "Thought you had an aneurysm or somethin'."

He sighed in response to her excuse, before pushing himself up to his feet. The air in here was already getting stale. "Now's a good time to raise a flag. Come on," he muttered to her as he approached the door."Where're we goin'?" she asked in response, standing up with him and tugging at her hagoromo to veil herself in the fabric.

"We," slid open the shoji door, "Are going to-"

He cut himself short the moment he noticed the two googly eyes staring at him.

Someone had been outside the door, and she hadn't left.

O - O - O - O

It was rare for Suwako to stoop low enough in grief to find herself devastated, and this was no devastation pertaining to the physical conditions of the objects around; this was emotional, deep, an infliction of pain to the throbbing organ inside her that still beat after her iron eroded, her statues wore, and her temples collapsed. Yasaka Kanako had returned, but… this wasn't… no, this was no 'return' at all. The true Goddess of the Shrine had no words. She couldn't even think of any, other than the idea of getting her to her chambers to lay her to rest for the time being.

That wasn't why she was outside his door, though. She was not here for comforts or information.

She was absolutely volcanic.

He was supposed to help her succeed.

He was supposed to ensure her happiness.

He was supposed to rid her of that damn Spirit.

Instead, he'd come back with his tail between his legs- or, that was what she inferred from his immediate abandonment of the living room back to his quarters. There were no excuses. Not only did he come back empty-handed and with a Kanako that looked to have aged a thousand years, he didn't even take the time to explain the tragedy that had befallen the Shrine, whatever it was.

How coincidental, then, that she would come at a time when he would be speaking to a certain someone in the room.

When she first entered the range of his voice's travel, her body froze. The impassioned speech from within had captured her attention, its juxtaposed energy compared to her suppositions throwing her off.

And there, she stood, listening. Her face began to mellow. The amphibious glare faded away, and her whip-ready frog tongue slurped back up into her throat.

 _Who is he talking to-?_

And then the Sanzu River's ferryman began to speak.

Wait, what?

Suwako's brow furrowed at the revelation.

 _Onozuka?_

 _Why's that Shinigami here?_

 _Why's she talking to him?_

 _What did Katsuragi see?_

 _What was he talking about?_

 _What's Onozuka's role here?_

 _How did I never notice her?_

 _Who?_

 _What?_

 ** _How_** ** _?_**

The questions thrashed and churned within her mind. Nothing added up for the Goddess, and she had to suppress the urge to just up and crash into the room. Her instincts told her otherwise, for the longer she stood outside, the more she heard them speak, then bicker, then fall into uncanny silence.

And then, when she heard him approach the door, she decided to wait for him outside. The door opened, and, as expected, he came face-to-face with her.

"Ah… L-Lady Suwako!" He exclaimed, his act far too apparent for his own good. Something else, though, was bothering her the most.

Where was the Shinigami?

She muttered, her tone lacking the usual kiddish empathy of her persona, into the room. "Oi, Shinigami, come out. I heard you loud and clear outside."

Keima clicked his tongue, but quickly disciplined himself the moment she shot him a glance.

"Onozuka…" he groaned, eyes rolling to stare innocently at the ceiling, and the Shinigami poked her head out of basically thin air. Suwako wasn't surprised, and neither was she appreciative of the fake innocence in the redhead's grin.

She marched in, much to the distress of the boy, and, even more so to his bewildered surprise, she hopped up, stretched out her hands into the air, and grabbed Komachi by both tiny tails of hair, dragging the pained, screaming ferryman's disconnected head down to her level, revealing more of her body from beneath what looked to be the usual Kappa's cloaking device. With clenched, grinding fangs, she interrogated her, "What the hell are you two trying to pull, here? What's your affiliations, your purpose- do I have to bring your boss Yabba Dabba Doo into this, huh?!"

"AH- OW- YABBA WHAT-!? STOP PULLING!!"

"Uh, Lady Suwako…" Keima pointed at himself, looking nonplussed at the preposterous situation, "You could be talking to me. I'm the mastermind, here, not that lazy woman."

He was immediately silenced by a shot of her glare. The Goddess couldn't believe the man right there, still so calmly standing in her wrathful midst. "Don't you have anything better to do, 'God of Games'?" she growled towards him, but really, beneath the sardonic snide, she didn't want to keep him in the room.

"What're ya hesitating for?" she continued, this time louder, with a more visible scowl on her face that fazed the boy, "I don't trust you explaining anything to me, and besides, you've got a job to do!"

Taking the hint, he shuffled his way out of the door and disappeared into some part of the Shrine.

Once he was out of sight, her scowl lost its angered luster, and she sighed. Her eavesdropping had saved him the trouble of her scolding, for, in those forlorn words he had declared and explained during that period of her clandestine, she'd been swayed by him. What power he had, explaining that concept of his, that she could only realize, from that speech, how diligent he still was in the task at hand.

No pain, no gain.

Gotta sacrifice some to get on the path, huh?

Kanako's pain hurt her, truly, but, if this was what he needed to get somewhere, then she would have to stomach it for the time being.

"Now…"

She turned back to the Shinigami, who'd teared up from the screaming nerves on her head, and glowered a threatening face, shocking her back into focus."Hey, hey, hey!" she cried waved both hands around, "I'm innocent! I didn't do nothin'; no reaping Goddesses around here, Moriya, I sweat!"

Suwako promptly smacked her cranium silent.

"Shut up." She abruptly cupped Komachi's cheeks, silencing her, and adjusted her neck till both eyes were staring into Pyonta's. "You're gonna explain to me, like the good Shinigami you are, why you're in the picture."

"W-what pic?"

"You've really forgotten how hard I hit, huh?"

That set her squealing, "W-wait, wait, wait! Okay, K-Katsuragi was sent 'ere by Yakumo, a-and I was assigned to him! T-that's all, I promise!"

"Really?" she drawled, unimpressed, before a staring contest between a disheveled and distressed Komachi and her hat went underway. Was… was it actually glaring at her? Komachi couldn't really confirm it, because she had averted her gaze to calmer sights, trying desperately to find something that could instill some hope inside her.

All of a sudden, for reasons only contained within the amphibious avatar's mind, Suwako unlocked her grip on the Shinigami's hair, allowing her to stumble backwards. In the midst of the groaning victim, she patted her hands clean, and huffed a little, child-like snort, clearly disenchanted. She had expected more than that, honestly, seeing how he was actually able to enter Tengu territory without any problems. Heck, she had heard yesterday that he'd beaten one of the Wolf Tengu in Shogi- she'd never done that before! How could some ordinary man from the Outside World rival the skills of Youkai, and sway the opinions of Gods, with just mere charisma and skill, especially since he looked no older than 20. What was so special about him, that the Gap Hag- as he'd so affectionately called it, himself- would ask that Enma to spare her ferryman to watch over him?

Bah, this was all stupid, anyways. That Yakumo could trust him, for all she cared. Whatever special method he had, if it didn't work, then she wouldn't really hesitate to lift the entirety of this Mountain she stood upon, and slotting him right below it before placing it back in place. She didn't want to waste her time interrogating that Shinigami, because now, in the wake of Kanako's downfall, the Moriya Shrine's threatened existence, and the shaking reliability and story behind the man, she had to keep a level head of things.

Pouting, she exited the room and closed the door, much to Komachi's confusion. What, was that it? Where was the bulk of the questioning? Where was the explosion from her admitting that he might have to kiss the other Goddess? The…! The pain from the hair pulling wasn't even worth it! Now she had to readjust everything, from her hair beads to the individual strands; can't a Shinigami dabble in making a nice image for herself?

When she tried to exit the room to search for and help out Katsuragi in his next plans, she found that her pull on the door did nothing.

"Eh?" She tried sliding it away once more, and-

 _Pop_.

A finger poked through the shoji paper. Komach's face wrinkled into one of utter bewilderment.

"Don't you dare help him," a voice commanded from beyond the thin wall, "If he's really the man Yakumo thinks he is, then he shouldn't need your help. And don't think about coming out when I'm not around. Mishaguji's watching."

Komachi grimaced.

Suwako glared.

"Welp, might as well go to sleep, then."

Suwako almost hit her jaw on the floor. Wait, so she wasn't even-? No, that's impossible! She clearly heard him say that he needed her help. Yes, now that she thought about it: clearly, he wasn't anything special, and all his crazy feats were done by the Shinigami herself.

So why wasn't she worried?!

"Take it seriously, you insolent Shinigami!"

Komachi, on the other side, loured at the insult, before she fluffed up her hagoromo, propped it on a wall, and rested her head on top of it.

"Hey, Shinigami!"

"I've got a name, y'know- and you were **just** calling me that just moments ago, why stop now?"

"He's just a Human!" the Goddess continued in her nagging, ignoring the Shinigami's quip, "It's not possible that he's just going to succeed without you! Yakumo made you watch over him so as to help him with the task, is that not true, Kero!?"

She zipped her lips to not let loose a snicker. Did she really say that when she was mad, or just when she was in one extreme? In any case, she had to answer. Might as well make her nap much quieter.

"C'mon, you really think Yakumo's just gonna pluck some kid from the Outside World just for big ol' Onozuka to be his stepmom, or something? He'll find a way."

Suwako grew quiet at the answer. Komachi smiled at the newfangled silence, and closed her eyes.

"He found his way with Shiki; he'll find it with her, too."


	21. I’ll Lead you There

Keima didn't need to hear it to assume and come to the conclusion that Komachi wasn't going to come and help him. Either it be the length of the interrogation, or the Goddess's own willing, the circumstances of the discovery, and the surprising leniency Suwako showed him, made him realize the chance of him achieving aid from the Shinigami was effectively zero.

He hadn't expected the Goddess to be outside his room, eavesdropping all of his plans, but he had this sinking feeling that, in truth, it had been a fortunate attendance, and whatever could have happened, if she hadn't been there and had missed all he had said, was going to cripple him for the days to come. Whatever it was, the possibility of violent lashings made him rather relieved that it hadn't come to that.

Honestly, Suwako was a hard character for him to pin down, detail-wise. There was an elusiveness, in her, as if her behavior had been an act, a way to fool those who came to see her, and her words had been under some veil, or careful wording that spoke little about her in meaningful, important levels. These kinds of characters were in excess, but, when it came from someone who was… how should he say it… real? When it came from a 3D entity, whose stat window did not exist, and whose existing material spoke little of her, she was hard to grasp, or even construe.

The Jupiter Sisters weren't like this! Even Diana at least had traces of characterization that he could grasp go on from those strands, but Suwako? Yeah, she had a nice theme song, but personality-wise, he felt like he was staring at the wrong side of coin, and it was the coin's decision, not his, when it came to whether or not he saw the other. Good thing she wasn't the capture target! Gah, that would've been a terrible thing to go through.

Moving with anxious step around the Shrine, he retraced his steps to Kanako's chamber. It wasn't that hard a task, honestly, even if the Shrine's layout was, honestly, confusing for the first-timer. By just referring to his game-centric mapping, he quickly found the room he had been in just this morning.

Still, he hesitated, and he had good reasons to do so.

There, in front of the shoji into Kanako's court, shoes, left outside in respect. Sanae was in there, that was a certain, and, without the Shinigami to help, he had to take other measures in getting her out.

 _Can't force her out, and too difficult to just convince her to leave; I'm starting to hate Player 2 a lot more…_

Sighing, his mind finalized its decision, and he walked into the room.

At first, one would suspect the place to be empty. Her court, large, much like Lord Tenma's room, had a wide space for the Shrine tenders to pray and listen. On the far right was where she would sit, above elevated ground and on top of a cushion, watching over the- and he didn't really have a better term than this- 'floor-kissers' offer their faith to her. It was unfortunate, then, that the room now lent its empty spaces over to the gathering tide of dust kedamas and musty ire, for surely the place would've made for a good spectacle had it filled, rather than continued its emptiness.

Still, he had to get used to it. This was where he was going to discuss their plans together, after all.

Behind Kanako's throne was a door, which, if speculations served him right, led to an actual bedroom. He didn't really have that well a grasp in medieval constructs, but, whether it be there during the Shrine's erection, or an addition ordered by the Goddess herself, his instincts, and the fact that there was nowhere else for the Shrine Maiden, who most certainly was in here, to go, assured him.

And so, he knocked on the door.

At first, there was silence, as if whoever was within hesitated to answer. But then, when his doubts began to emerge, the green-haired Shrine Maiden opened the door.

"Ah, Miss Kochiya-"

"Go away."

The door slammed on his face.

Keima felt a vessel pop on his scowl-pulled face.

"Open the door." His demand went unnoticed, as she cried back:

"What's going to happen to the Shrine?"

He paused, the question too abrupt for him to properly process. His hand rose up to the height of his chest, and they clenched, hard, shaking from the excess of energy he was putting on that tiny appendage of his. Frankly, his entire body was juddering.

 _I can tell you that INSIDE the room, too, you idiot…_

Flicking his numb fist open, the irritated Keima answered, in a low voice so as to not let vulnerable ears hear: "Does it look like I know? I wasn't there, in the meeting."

"Don't lie," she riposted, adding fuel to his frustration, "I know it, I JUST know it! You were there! That's why you were carrying her back to the Shrine: you were at the meeting, and when she fainted, you were instructed to take her back! You're a Tengu, aren't you! You can't be a God, you can't be anything but someone who works for them!"

How many disillusioned accusations did he have to trudge through? First Hatate, now her? Touhou characters were troublesome, even for 3D.

But she wasn't going to budge, and there was a wall separating them. She had the advantage here; that was unless, of course, he sat outside till she starved, but that would have been an absolute waste of time, and it would do no good in his already-strained flexibility within the Moriya household. If there was just some way he could get her out…

 _Telling her the truth isn't an option here. Knowing her, she'd make a run for it and convince Kanako that I'm a Tengu associate._

 _Can't waste time, but can't do anything to not let that happen…_

"Oi, why're you so quiet?"

"I was thinking…" he grunted back, before he put out his actual answer to her conniption, "Pretty insolent for a Shrine Maiden to dismiss a God as such, don't you think? I just want to see Kanako, and make sure that she's okay!"

"You left the damn room just now!" She punched the door, forcing him reflexively back, "I had to carry her!"

Keima snapped.

Okay, the point, she could take! Yes, he supposed he did misjudge how long he had to stay to grieve with the other two, but the second point!? REALLY!? Is that your complaint!? He palmed her back, screaming at the barrier that was now an inch from his face. "Oh, so you want me to touch her?! I don't mind!"

"Don't put words into my-!?" She abruptly gasped, some horrifying realization dawning into her. "'D-don't mind'!? You pervert! I'm telling you: I am the Moriya Shrine Maiden, and I'm not afraid to use Danmaku to chase you away!"

"As the God who's head over heels with Lady Yasaka's achievements and feats, I order you to open this door!"

"I'm not kidding! I will shoot Danmaku at you!"

"And I'll eat them up to show you my commitment to her!"

"You weirdo!"

"Stupid Shrine Maiden!"

"Lier, lier, lier!"

"I'll curse you!"

"And what's that going to do, huh?!"

"You'll lose every game that you play, forever!"

"You're so USELESS!"

She barraged the door with threatening fists, but it didn't faze the God of Conquest from his spot.

It did, though, make his head knock painfully on the surface like a jackhammer on stone. Heck, one would swear that steam was seeping out.

Stepping back, his forehead revealed to the world a throbbing bruise on his head and a little waterfall of blood streaking past the bridge of his nose- nothing permanent, for the God of Conquest had a knack in the physically dramatic. His lips, sealed tight with the coming of his clenched teeth, made good lipstick out of the fluid. One eye twitched.

Like any main protagonist, though, one quick wipe immediately cleaned his face, and he readied for another assault.

And then the Shrine bell rang.

Wait.

Keima stopped.

The Shrine Bell?

The one outside the entrance?

Someone rang it?

His breath hitched. Sanae hiccupped from the sudden peal.

A visitor. Sanae's heart leapt, because it meant one thing.

An opportunity to get her out of the room.

"Answer it," he said in the new silence forming between them. To have a visitor now should have been unheard of. It could be the Tengu…

"Kochiya, are you listening to me," he continued, this time with more heft in his voice, "Answer the visitors. I'll look after Kanako."

Now, he was even knocking on the door to get her to start doing something.

 _Sanae has to answer it._

 _No way is this some coincidence. I have to use this to my advantage._

 _If she's too slow, Suwako might answer it, and if she does, I wouldn't have the time needed inside to get any progress with Kanako…_

 _Damn it, come out. I need to set up the next event!_

Desperation, perhaps unfortunately, was not a foreign sensation to Keima. It heightens the senses, palpitates through the heart into the veins, and brings to recoil the stresses building within. Waning time brought about it, in today's case, but graspable, yet far off solutions exacerbated the pulsating insidiousness. She must leave. If she didn't, then what else could he do but waste his already ticking time like some useless commodity, when in all honesties and scrutiny they were beyond valuable. Did time demand from him to tear off the walls? Did it want him to force his way through the lock? Was this an order for him to ditch the frugal respect for some toxic ornery just to get his way in this silly game?

"Just open the door..." muttered Keima through the paper-thin walls, "And let me do my damn job!"

And then the breeze hit his face.

Keima opened his clenched eyes and stared, stunned.

Sanae harrumphed out of the door.

His look of sheer bewilderment must have been far too visible for his own good, because Sanae, begrudgingly, explained, with eyes veered, and a pout for lips. "I-"A short pause to collect her thoughts. "As the Shrine Maiden, you're right, I have to answer."

He couldn't even move. The shock of it all was too much for-

Suddenly, he jerked back. Her gohei had collided and pushed back on his chest. The brazenness hadn't come from nowhere, either, for her face embodied a determination he hadn't seen on her before, all aimed at him, the disdain uncovered and in plain sight.

With a sharp inhale that brought her head angled higher, she, through that pout of hers, muttered to him, with the authoritativeness of a commander: "Don't you dare do anything to Kanako… You got it? I'll exterminate you without a second thought if you do."

Keima stared at the gohei.

Then at her.

A silent nod answered in compliance.

With swift step, Sanae withdrew her weapon and jogged out the premise, picking her shoes up as she went, perhaps under the bothersome thought that if she were to put them on now, it would be too much a waste of time and a bother to the patience outside. Keima watched, wondering to himself of his fortunes, before his mind found himself alone, in front of an open door. In the wake of such an opportunity, he, with a gulp and gathering resolve, waddled in, and, with one last pensive peer outside, closed the door.

O - O - O - O

Watching your legacy rise and fall is the greatest source of regret. Watching it rise once again, joyous relief. Watching the mistakes of the past come and knock it down once more? Even Enmas should pity such existences.

Great beings worry most, for they infer such concerns from all that is past, present and future; hauntings, warring and destroying. It is in the blood of those who dare break the boundaries of the impossible millennium, it is what boils in the unconscious, whose steam rises to drive the hands to lead, the legs to stand, the words to command. It is the proverbial cog of the all-seeing, and yet, though there are many, most structure differently from their brethren, and the dissonance turns many to rust, and, finally, dust in the wind.

So many rise, and yet so many fall. We birth, and we lose. The cycle does not forget its list: it checks and it memorizes, and once the time comes, it sweeps through the fields of wheat; no matter the size, the age, the species, all are cut down. That is the fact of mortality, and all around us are the dusts of the long-cremated, some insidious ploy by the residents of the undying Providence to torment us into remembering so. You can come to hate it, to despise those above who carry no guarantees for your life beyond the dead of your nightly vows, for though there is a list that the Harvester carries, they are not inclined to publish it for the world to read, to reminisce, and to cower.

So then, who has heard of the God who feared Death?

No one, for Gods do not die. If you believed in a God who would even come to be moribund, you would not have a God in the first place. You would have Man. You would have Man, who bleeds, who hungers, who thirsts, who pleas, who grows weak, who breathes, who loses, who grieves, and dies in a grave one shovel-swing deep.

You would have the one who judges which God comes, and which God goes.

 _Was I one, before?_

The shoreline laps at her feet.

 _It's been so long that… I can't really remember._

Splashing, from beside her. She turns her gaze.

She sees herself.

She inhales the sea air. No, not she, but her. The flowing robes glisten in the wake of the rising moon, whose glare is comparable to that of a sun.

She stares, longingly, at herself.

At a time where she cared only for what was beyond, where her footprints would be the only legacy she would care for, once she had the time to return to these beaches in the coming year. A time when nothing ruled her world.

The waves rush past. Her footsteps are washed away. Hers aren't.

Her heart stung. She hasn't felt envy this strongly in some time.

And then, she raises a hand to the sky, and a hand to her chest, and then, in front of the listening elements, she sings. Her voice is heavenly, almost bewitching, and she feels it through her veins.

 _How did I forget…?_

 _I wrote that song._

She once envied the Godhood of those she looked up to. Always wanted to join them in their indulgence of longevity and bask in the holiness that comes bearing in their namesake. Yamato was a different place, then, simplicity in the form of a civilization, where peasants of the doctrine cared little for all but the fields, the nobility dabbled in the philosophies of the world or let themselves be grasped by the indulgences, and the Gods watched over them, eyes set in the sight of future's prospects, where the only legacy was their continued worship for years to come.

Now seemed so foreign to then.

And then, when her song had finally come to its conclusion, from the sea something emerged. A torii pushed past the surface, and rose above them, a gateway to the Divine. The water and salt lathered the lacquered wood, dripping down like a veil. The shadow casted right on top of her face.

She takes a step forward, and another torii rises from the depths. This one, though, is shorter, much further into the water. She watches, as she moves closer, closer, to the thousand years of war and love, prosperity and faith. The knees submerge. Then the waist is subsumed. And lastly…

When only her head is up on the water, she turns towards her other. Their eyes meet. One, clear as a cloudless day, the other storming and doubtful.

Her mouth moves.

The skies part.

The earth shakes.

The great civilization of nature collapses.

Wake up

Do not let my legacy end now

Wake up

YASAKA KANAKO

And she woke up.

Her lungs opened to the sounds of drastic gasps, and she took in breath. The blanket right below her sight rose in tandem to her rhythm. Blurry eyes cleared, and she realized where she was: it was her personal quarters, where her actual bed and all the meaningful furnishing that came with a bedroom were.

Once those senses cleared, she moved her fingers, and found them feeling bound and restricted. Ah, yes, the bandages. The… bleeding. It didn't sting, anymore, but that… that wasn't the point.

The memories came in an invading torrent back into her consciousness. She was losing not only the Shrine, her home and the abode of her family, but she was also losing her Godhood. By the end of the month, she might as well disappear with Suwako. Who would take them into their household, this proud God whose couldn't even stand her ground when it came to keeping her house. It was gone, all of it. It was just swept aside.

Her dream, what was that ethereal form of a metaphor asking her to do? It was like someone had placed the impossible on her, and that someone was her own self.

She scowled. The damn Tengu bastards, they've taken away her home like it was nothing. But they couldn't be convinced. No, they couldn't, and it only wrought her heart, wringing it dry of the warmth of yesteryears.

The Aki Sisters. If they said yes to their request of moving in, she'd…! She would…

Her tensing muscles dispelled. The terrible realization set in.

Her breathing labored at the terror she felt inside herself.

 _What am I doing?_

 _I… I don't know what to do, don't know if I can do anything to save this Shrine, and, instead of thinking straight, I'm…_

Why did they become her friends, to begin with?

Why was she so weak?

Why did she want to hate them?

Why, why, WHY?

 _Broken._

 _I'm broken._

 _I'm not fit to be God, anymore._

 _The bleeding wasn't a-a coincidence._

 _It's all-!_

Her eyes began to blur. A coldness streaked down the sides of her face. She couldn't: she closed her eyes. Her teeth cut into her lower lips.

Yasaka Kanako couldn't stop her Shrine from getting taken away.

She couldn't fend herself from the biggest threat to her existence.

She let the people in her world down.

Where were they? Where were the spoils of the past now? The feasts with her people and Gods? The celebrations? The festivals she would attend, leaders she would inaugurate, priests she would pester?

Where were they now?

"Where are they now...?"

She cupped her face.

And then a hand touched her face. It wasn't hers. It was someone else's.

Her thoughts screeched, halted.

Who-?

She blinked, sending the pooled tears streaming.

"Don't cry, Lady Yasaka."

Kanako couldn't even breathe. Her whole body, especially her own heart, seized from the shocking realization reverberating through her that made her hairs stand.

That voice…!

"It's not the end of the world yet."

And both eyes met.

Katsuragi Keima was in her room.

She flinched in shock, springing her entire top-half up from the bed at such speeds that, in a silly turn, he had to reach out and catch her from falling over the other end. After a half-hearted apology, both went silent. Why he would lose his voice, she didn't know, but, for her, to let the God who idolized her see the lowest depths of her despair was enough for her to relapse into it almost immediately, had it not been for her own self-control. Still, the question persisted: why was he here with her?

Where was Sanae? Suwako? She didn't want him here. Anyone but the young, naïve God. Why did he come? Why did he remind her of one more tragedy she had created? All the senseless confidence, now broken, and in plain view of the one who thought her words to be true as the laws of the Universe? Oh, this would not, and never will, end well. She didn't want another individual grieving for her sake- she was already doing plenty.

But she couldn't say much. Her body felt weak from the advent of the Tengu's judgement, and there was little she could even utter to him that could be identified within the ranks of her renowned, haughty Confidence, which she thought he would have appreciated.

A cloth was offered, but she pushed it aside. She didn't have time for that.

"What happened?" he asked, eliciting a sharp hitch of breath from her. Shakily, she turned her gaze to him, a look of disbelief scrunched into her wetted expression.

He kept staring back.

Immediately, her neck snapped away. Gah, how obvious was she going to be? She just- It was the expression. That cold graveness behind those spectacles. Why was he…?

Oh no. Could he have already lost all respect for her? Was his presence in the room some token gesture, or him readying himself for the confession: 'I can't see you as the Yasaka Kanako I know. I'm sorry, but I must leave.' The thought tore at her, made gangrene the sores and cuts of her struggle.

But then a cold towel snapped her out of her trance, and, in reflex, she slapped his arm away.

"Stop it, Katsuragi…" she muttered, withdrawing her hands and shooting him a haggard glare.

Katsuragi only blinked in his initial response.

Oh, what was she doing, threatening him like that?

Before she could give him another apology, though, he said to her:

"I guess you've lost the Shrine, then?"

Her lips pursed. Of course he would've guessed correctly-

"Tengu must've thought all you've done for the mountain's too intrusive on their society," he continued, without much of a care for her slowly-perking form the more he spoke, "They must have talked to you about the Ropeway and the Kappa and what they were doing to the mountain thanks to your instigations. Clearly, you didn't bring any good points to the debate, at all, because they still followed with their promises, and now are kicking you out of the Shrine. Still, as a young God, I at least do know that pieces of land tend to adapt to Gods of the land; judging by the Tengu's sense of humor, they must have brought those Autumn Goddesses down at the foot of the Mountain to replace you, didn't they? As expected. And I'm guessing the outcome's the same as the last meeting, right?

"So why, Lady Yasaka: why didn't you take off that confidence?"

Kanako was as pallid as fresh snow.

"Y-you were there!?" she exclaimed, frantic and in utter disbelief. She nearly wanted to jump out of the bed and pin him to the wall out of sheer desperation.

He shook his head.

What? T-then how did he-?

"I told you," he patted the towel in between both hands, looking down at the little action as if whatever he was discussing hadn't been worth much of his attention, "Master debater and negotiator (in games). It's…" He paused, turning his back to her during the silence, and walked towards the drawer at the other side of the room. "Let's just say I've become pretty good at predicting dialogue structures when I'm familiar with the situation."

Placing the towel in a dish, the wet slapping a hint to its liquid content, he soaked and wrung the fabric dry, and then readied a turn when, all of a sudden, the soft sounds of a flopping blanket reached his ears. Curious, the God of Games stopped his fingers and turned around, one hand already reaching to dry itself on the hem of his yukata, if only to make it much easier not to soak Kanako's dress as she got up from the bed.

But then his entire body found itself forced to a halt. One hand, cuffed by the wrist, had been pulled into the air. The assailant forced her presence upon him, till his waist collided with the drawer. He leaned back, while she leaned forward.

Dark red clashed into brown depths.

Desperation was no God's natural motivation. In fact, throughout history, it had been the foil that led to her gaining more followers; a helper of sorts, rarely emerging from its Human and Youkai dens, but a frequent visitor. Where it came from made for good topics of motivation and blessing, and, this time, it was doing what it had been doing for Centuries. Now, though, it was inflicting its wounds upon her, and she wanted the cure for it, no matter who it came from.

Even if it came from a young God who'd only been staying under her roof for a single day.

If Katsuragi Keima was dangling some inane form of bait in front of her face like some passive-aggressive fisherman to his fish, then she was going to bite down hard on it.

"Help me, Katsuragi."

Her hand unconsciously tightened upon his own, having slipped upward till the wrinkles of his finger's joints could be felt. She couldn't hide the crimson blooming on her face, or the dignified tears trickling through her eyelids.

He only stared indifferently back.

"Help me get back the Shrine. As the older of the two Gods in this room, that's an order."

"Well," Kanako jolted as his hand wrapped around her's, "That's an answer I've been waiting for."

That was what she wanted to hear. The elation was spectacular, but it, and the tightening grip, had also come with the side-effect of wakening her from her distraction, and when she saw the proximity they were in, she couldn't help but push herself back, letting the boy feel the brunt of her push. The bowl tipped, and nearly fell. The drawer legs slammed back down as he collected his bearings.

And then her mind began to churn and swirl. Was this a good decision to make? What would he think, now that his idol, whom he once thought so highly of, was now relying on him like some weakling? Oh, the doubts did swirl aplenty within her.

"Why didn't you take off that confidence?"

Kanako stopped. The words sank in.

Of course, how didn't she realize this, sooner. The new God must still be too young to cultivate any of that haught she'd come to associate herself with. She… She should be fine showing a bit of humbleness with him, yes? Of course. Stop it with the doubt, you baba. If he was the real deal, then… then…!

"We'll start tomorrow," Keima's stony voice instructed her through her thoughts. She turned around, only to see him halfway from exiting out of the room.

"W-wait," she ordered, "Should we not start now? I-I'm-"

"'Not fine'," he finished for her. "Lady Yasaka, I deeply value your health; so please," he removed himself from the door, stood straight, and bowed deeply to her. She couldn't even respond to that with more than a sputter of broken syllables. "Rest till tomorrow."

A part of her wanted to resist. That part, though, was the stark minority.

Sucking up the disappointment in her face, she exhaled out a subdued wheeze, and nodded in agreement. In the next moment, he was gone, out from the door, leaving an emptiness in the room.

Kanako, thereafter, sighed, and resigned herself to his request. Shuffling to her bed, she took up its friend the blanket, and began to rest on the cushion, herself awake, but her mind meditating.

Gods don't need sleep, but she couldn't wait to fall into the dreamy etherealscape so the morning sun and his silly little class would greet her by the next blink.


	22. What one needs for the Ritual

_I must say, again, thank you all for following this story until now. I just hope I haven't didappointed anyone in how the story's been going up till now._

O - O - O - O

He hadn't expected her to wake up so early. He'd thought to do all the impressive, recital theatrics tomorrow, when she might have awoken and looked for him.

One might ask, and reasonably so, why she would even look for him? The answer was simple: he had planned to take care of her during this short span of time, leaving as much tangible evidence as possible. The warm blanket on the head, the tidied room, the note of good health- the last one, he couldn't really do due to his lack of tools needed, but by coincidence, nothing of that sort was necessary. She woke up! He couldn't believe his luck, today, because no way were the stars that well aligned for him to score so many lucky paths. He felt literally unstoppable!

 _Oh god…_

 _Have I become a Mary Sue?_ The cold sweat trickled down like miniature waterfalls.

Yeah, good way to kill the mood, Otamega.

The conversation had been a bait, after all. Knowing Kanako, all he had to do was let her yank herself out of the water: make her think she would still, in the end, be on the steering wheel, while he taught her the way, not making known that he was painting the road to success. It was so simple, seeing how desperation usually makes all sorts of capture targets turn tail from their character archetypes and run off the cliff, so of course when his plan turned awry, he still could adapt and salvage everything at breakneck speeds, keeping in mind all the conditions above.

Now, though, came the formulation of what to bring to the Tengu, during the next discussion. Of course, no one would want her coming back, but that was what they expected. It'd be like a surprise battering ram; a preemptive strike from the most obvious of spots. Yes, that would be his first goal, then. Now on to the points-

He would have continued on in his mindful education, if not for the fact that the Shrine Maiden- well, there she was, at least- stopped him in the middle of his thoughts and a hallway. He gave her an irritated tsk, much to her chagrin, and yet, even after he had portrayed his displeasure, she insisted that he come with her. Something about the visitor wanting to see him.

Still, he bothered to follow her. Whoever it could be, he didn't care. His mind was too preoccupied with the plannings for tomorrow's session.

Not surprisingly, she had been telling the truth.

Still, he couldn't help but look with a face of broken disbelief, of trauma-filled disgust and 'oh come on, just leave me alone's.

"U-Uh, G-God of Conquest!"

 _Wow, the evening is sooooooo beautiful, today~_

 _Leave me alone, baka okami._

There, right at the entrance to the Shrine building, stood Inubashiri Momiji, ears down, whole body trembling like that of the coyest girl in the world. Ignoring her exuberantly shy body-language, what was she wearing? All that regalia? That just didn't look to fit her, at all. Wasn't she a warrior, a White Wolf Tengu who protected the settlement and literally gave him the most trouble out of any midboss?

What happened? And why was she looking for him?

"Uh… yeah, I'm… uh… here," he answered, every word hesitant in his throat.

"See, Momiji, he isn't a War God," Sanae explained, sounding rather angry, as she patted him hard- a bit too hard, mind you- on his back, "Though whatever he is, I don't really know, so I'm sorry, but you might have the wrong person. Please leave."

"Oi, I'm a God, okay?"

Sanae couldn't answer, as Momiji exclaimed, "N-no! He's the man who beat me in Shogi, the 'God of Conquest'! I-I'm here to… to…"

Much to the surprise of the two, tears started streaming out of her blood-red face, an expression of deathly embarrassment etched beneath. Keima shot a look of sheer bafflement, while Sanae, on the other hand, looked to have immediately realized the situation.

"W-wait, y-you should think about this before you ask him! B-besides, our Shrine doesn't do those services between Youkai!"

"Wait," Keima interjected, "What the heck is she even here for? Another rematch?"

Sanae gasped, before she exclaimed, in a scolding tone, "Mister Katsuragi! Don't hurt her feelings like that! She's just misunderstanding! C-come on, Inubashiri, y-you've got the wrong person, so just leave, okay? He should be somewhere else-"

"I don't even know what's happening! Explain, NOW!"

Sanae, frowning at his supposed insensitivity, yelled, "She's here to-"

Momiji, all of a sudden, screamed:

"I'M HERE TO ASK YOU IF YOU WOULD **LIKETOENTERTHEINUBASHIRIBLOODLINE**!"

Eh?

Keima fishlipped.

 **EEEEEHHHHHHHHH**!?

And then his jaw rotted off of his head.

"E-enter the Inubashiri B-Bloodline?" he parroted through his gaping, lower-jawless hole, pointing at himself with the most incredulous finger ever, "J-just because I beat you in Shogi…?"

"I…" Momiji hid behind her hair, "I thought you'd understand… from the clothes I was wearing. T-they're what the wives wear when… when they meet their partners for the first t-time."

"A… A dowry, or…"

 _Wait, what am I-?_

"That's not the damn issue!" He suddenly cried, his confusion shaping into an anger that manifested in him stomping on the ground, body completely controlled by sheer frustration. "Why are **you** proposing to **me**!?"

"Because… B-because you showed your dominance over me…"

Both pairs of eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Y-you beat me in Shogi, a-and even bribed me to enter… I… It's shameful, but if I must be rid of this shame, then I must marry you and take you into the household! The White Wolves, t-they prefer strong warriors as their m-m-m-mates, a-and you've proven to me y-your worth, so please, a-accept me and b-b-bolster the Inubashiri family with your genius and Divinity!"

In the next moment, Keima had both arms outstretched, having come to the door right in front of her. The teary-eyed Momiji only blurted out a 'huh' at his supposed preparation for a hug.

Unfortunately for her, both his hands were not ready for hugs. They instead tightly grasped on the shoji doors.

"I respectfully decline."

And with all his might, he shut the entrance.

In the next moment, Sanae screamed:

"WHAAAAAAAAT!?!?!?!"

"Please stop, I don't want to hear about it!" Keima cried over her voice, trying his hardest to block that damn screeching cacophony and turning his back on the issue. "I'm too busy with the plans for this to even care. If she comes back, tell her NO! I don't need ANY distractions!"

"K-Katsuragi!" she chided, both hands flailing out in anger, "T-this isn't a joke! Okay, I'm going to concede: you may be a God. So, maybe if you marry her, t-then as part of the Shrine, y-you could help Lady Kanako in-!"

"Ugh," Keima shot her a disgusted look, "Why's this sassy child here saying such stupid plans?" Suddenly, with much grandiloquence, he did a swift turnaround, and placed his hands on his chest. Like the most passionate poet, he declared to her in a flowing, slick voice: "The only person I want to marry is Lady Yasaka~!"

"I'm going to kill you." She brandished her gohei, sorely unappreciative of his act.

"Yeah, sure," he dismissed airily with an accompanying wave, as his slow shuffle out of the room played out, "Make enemies with that Wolf Tengu, then."

"Wait a minute. You…"

He stopped. Then he pouted. That voice told him no merriments.

"Didn't do anything to her… did you?"

He took a little peek back at her. Not surprisingly, the darkened fires of her boiling rage emanated out of every conceivable pore of her body, and like a whirlwind it lashed and blew, usually straight at him. What a bother; he didn't want anymore distractions. If he was to get this capture done as quickly as he feasibly could, those two had to get out of the picture. Or at least stay in the corner of it. That way, he could edit them out faster.

"No, I didn't!" he insisted in a screeching manner, much like a child would, as he turned towards her with the enraged face of one, "Stop thinking such stupid ideas, and leave me alone!"

Before Sanae could voice her angered response, he quickly interrupted her, this time more mildly so as to let her drop her guard, "Look, she woke up while I was there. I told her to go back to sleep. Be a good Shrine Maiden, and tend to her, okay?"

In that instance, her fury dissipated. The news had knocked her mind into a crash, and the anger she thought Keima had deserved from the caretaker of these grounds quickly redirected its levees towards that of calmer waters. All prior topics were quickly left behind to dry for later. Kanako had woken up from her traumas- that was clearly the most important thing- and she couldn't help but, though hesitatingly at first, rush to her room to see for herself, leaving Keima to do whatever by himself.

And just like that, he'd lost one of the most annoying NPCs in this entire scenario. Sighing respite, he ruffled his hair and-

Keima blinked his wide eyes.

Momiji blinked her squinting ones.

The shoji door let in the breeze.

Welp… Time to bring out the trump card.

"Game of Shogi. I win, you leave."

She shyly nodded, and then slipped in.

…

…

Looking at him, opposite from her side of the table, she asked, "So… conjure up the board, then?"

"Uh… My powers are recharging…"

She sighed. Crawling on her hands and knees, she approached one of the compartments on the wall and opened it, revealing a fully complete Shogi set, much to his bemusement. "I…" she took it up, and set it on the table, "Come here to play with the Goddesses… during some of my breaks."

"And is that supposed to scare me from playing with you?"

"No!" she yelled back, before slamming both fists on the table and then swiping one of the pieces from the board, "Now arrange your board! I'm going to win, and make you my husband for the honor of the Inubashiri!"

He cringed, not because of the sudden clap of said taken piece on the wood as she brought it brazenly down in a statement against him, but because her attitude had become so incomprehensible to the man.

Oi, when did she ever act this romance-thirsty in ANY work?

Then again, Momiji's appearances in any of the said 'works' rarely did much with her. Any interpretation, at this point, would have to do, and even then he didn't know whether or not it was the Wolf Tengu herself, or her entire species that acted so blatant in these lofty areas of eugenics.

Dogs of war be Dogs of war, he supposed, as he placed the first piece in its proper place on his board. Pushing up his glasses, he glowered, finding it hard to digest the fact that he had to indulge in this waste of five minutes.

No, that estimate was not some stray gut feeling, because, exactly five minutes later, he'd beaten her.

"Checkmate."

Again, she gawked at her loss, clearly in the towering heights of the grandest spiral into disbelief that no one, at this point in Gensokyo, should ever be in anymore. Her lower lip curled inward into her gaping mouth, and she, ever so slowly closing and biting into the flesh, sucked in her entire face like she had eaten the sourest of preserved plums. Keima watched, almost indifferent to the entire situation. Shouldn't have challenged me, he might as well have said right there and then. Instead, when it looked clear that she wouldn't budge from her immeasurable tensing, he sighed, and pushed himself off the table.

"Go back home," he ordered her in a dry tone, "I'm not going to be tied down by marriage, especially to someone who's not integral to the entire thing." Before he left, he opted to look at her to check for any facial response, but then groaned at her childish suppression- not that he wasn't innocent in the 'childish' department, himself. She had obviously stopped listening, and he could only shrug at that.

With quickened gait, he made himself scarce, and, finally, the entrance to the shrine was now home to one person. Wait till you see when that person leaves.

Keima couldn't bother with her any longer. Sure, he supposed it was a Touhou fan's dream to play Shogi with her, but he'd been so desensitized of all this fantasy schlock, and so focused on his task at hand just so he could finish it all, call it quits and return to Chihiro, that it didn't matter; it all flew by his gamer-centric head. Still, perhaps it was a good time for him to ponder why that was so, because, until now, he'd been pretty reserved with the sights of Gensokyo. It hadn't even been a conscious decision, too.

He scanned his surroundings, finding no trace of life watching him, and thought that perhaps now was a good time to at least play around with that notion while he walked. He wasn't impeding on the progress of Kanako's capture: at best, he was distracting himself from the annoyances of the past, which, honestly, could make his later reorientation to other topics slightly easier.

Higan had been a pleasant detour, Keima had to admit to that, at least; but the sudden declaration at the time, that Shiki Eiki held within her the first Runaway Spirit he had to capture, had knocked him out of that desire to even try and indulge himself. Think about it: to do so was to lose awareness of the surrounding, and forgo the basics of focusing. A time waster, in all regards, something he didn't need to distract himself with, at the moment- unless, of course, if for some reason he got over his anger with Yakumo Yukari, and maybe, in the light of a blue moon, was allowed back into Gensokyo, then maybe, JUST maybe, he'd have a bit of fun.

No, that didn't mean he was going to stop playing games- get your head out of the gutter. Still, however, he had a lot of things on his mind to actually do that...

…

…

Keima cocked his head to the side, and gave an inquisitive hum.

 _Wait a minute, can't I use Momiji as a replacement to Komachi for this point of the capture...?_

 _Hmm, stupid of me not to grab on that opportunity faster. Whenever she comes back, I'll try and see if I can get her to-_

Suwako inflated her pouty cheeks as she watched the sad excuse meditate over whatever it was on his mind, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"What're you doing?"

"Shut up, Keroro; let me think."

His yukata would later have the imprints of a little girl's foot on its back, courtesy of the insistent frog.

O - O - O - O

Keima didn't sleep throughout the entire operations.

Worry not. God has had his fair share of all-nighters in the past, but this time, it was no exercise of the fingers and eyes, but the elaborate planning of the mind, for, throughout the days before the first frost in Gensokyo, where ice fairies would roam far and wide, the Yuki Onnas would find themselves strolling through the ice, and the doors of the village would shut in favor of keeping the fleeting heat in one's home, he planned, the only music playing in the back being Onozuka Komachi's snoring. He had read his fair share, as well, skimming through the texts of Tengu society, culture and its many forms. Those things, Komachi was supposed to bring, but, by insistence of the Myriad God herself, she was put under arrest in that very room. Thus, he had to rely on one other source.

Early morning, before the others would rise, he was at the steps of the Shrine, waiting. By the time the sun's spherical identity fully emerged from the hillsides, the reluctant Crow Tengu Himekaidou Hatate would crest over the trees within its glorious morning splendor. On her hand, were the books he'd needed, all the information he would have wanted for the future he envisioned to come, all from a particular bookstore in the Human Village. Some, in the ancient tongue of the Tengu that none knew in this day and age, were tagged with translations, which helped, although, fearing the effects of these books, he'd given it off to Komachi to recite. Might as well make her do something, to justify her existence.

Still, the early morning hadn't done well for him, for that pestering White Wolf Tengu Momiji would always return, secretive as always, and much more assertive each day. Only a quick game of Shogi, and very quick ones, at that, could drive her away.

It was after breakfast when he would visit the Goddess of the Shrine still hidden in her room. She hadn't come out of her self-made cage, much to the Shrine Maiden's displeasure and distress, but, being the nice disciple of Kanako that he was, he had opted to bring her the food.

And once he did? Oh, the hours would pass. Keima and Kanako were both speakers and listeners, each one sharing and swapping thoughts and ideas. Being the man that he was, it had all been an act. Kanako, on the other hand, couldn't tell the difference in that serious glare on his face. It looked as if he was, to tell you the truth, truly putting a concerted effort in trying, and she couldn't help but thank him deeply for that.

Sometimes, she'd catch herself leaning in closer to him, not only to read what he had written, but just to hear his voice better. She didn't have the ears of a witch, just that… well, she couldn't really put it into words. At first, she'd pull back once she noticed the proximity, but, by the end of the third days' hours of discussion, his lack of any meaningful reaction and her acclimation to the entire situation had emboldened her to keep herself close.

Other times, it was small things: the buddy-buddy touching, the squabbling of two ideas disagreeing, the giggling when the mood found itself tight enough to lighten with a joke, usually in the expense of the other denizens of the Shrine or the Tengu, but sometimes, very rarely, to the other residents of Gensokyo, many of which Keima knew, but he'd feigned ignorance of.

But it did not mean that work was simple. In the times when he was not with her, her hands were full in creating ornate gifts, writing and calligraphing, and wondering what she had to do when the inevitable came. He had advised such strange strategies, at first, but before long, she had begun to realize just now grounded in common sense they were. These were negotiating techniques she had seen, and done many times before, and yet she'd forgotten them, sometimes for the most baseless of reasons as them not fitting her image.

On the fourth day, Komachi awoke from her nap to find Keima making a strange ornament; a nest of sorts.

"Uh… what're you doin'?" she asked, looking closer only to realize the true nature of his craft. "That's a… Nagashi-bina?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, eyes still focused on his meticulous hands. A bead of sweat splashed on to the floor.

In the next hour, it'd be falling down the Waterfall of Nine Heavens.

" _It's an important piece for the conquest_."

Miraculously, it had survived, perhaps having been under the protection of a certain Tengu, or Maiden's miracle- who can tell? He'd never say it- and had floated down the river. By the end of its travel, someone picked it up, and noticed the letter inside.

Speaking of Sanae, she had mellowed surprisingly well throughout the days. Sure, the portions she'd set aside for his meals were rarely ever equal to anyone else's, and the first few days of his prolonged stay within Kanako's room had made her immeasurably suspicious, to the point where she'd sometimes crash into the room only to be driven out by an angered Katsuragi, with a confused Kanako in the background. But those could not last, for, on the fifth day, when Kanako finally exited her room, the confidence and content she exuded after all the meetings she and that 'God' had had made her rather thankful of his influence, even if that thankfulness had, at first, been rejected as something stupid. Still, the closeness between them, literally and figuratively, was aggravating, especially in the first dinner the family had together.

 _Ugh, sitting so close to each other… So annoying_ …

Right there and then, Suwako gave her cheeky croak. The Myriad God had been presuming, correctly, that those long hours in Kanako's room had been linked to his new plan of 'Appeasement', or whatnot, and her eagerness to see any results had come in the fruition of her fellow God's more cheery self. Heck, she'd allowed him to start using the Shinigami by the fourth day, but he seemed content to just up and continue on his tracks. How the man did it, she couldn't put a finger on any explanation, but it was all stunning, nonetheless, result-wise. It was nice and very much a relief to her heart, but… well, she had to share Kochiya's concerns.

 _You two're… awkwardly close, huh, Kero?_

Kanako, on the other hand, didn't mind the glances she was receiving as she recommended Keima the Shrine Maiden's best and most delectable fares. He'd been so earnest in his help that, honestly, she'd started ignoring the criticisms, thankful for his effort throughout the entire ordeal. Really, she couldn't care less of their suspicion, because her focus laid on something else exciting, an ultimate conclusion to his many days of planning, discussing, and arranging.

And then, on the sixth day, Hatate came in the morning with a stunning bamboo-wood box in tow.

"Is this…" Keima's words trailed off as he let a hand hover over the case, feeling the smooth finish rub on his skin with the least of resistance. She nodded in response.

"It took a while, but I think it looks good. Took me and Momiji quite a lot to get that damn Puppeteer to even start: you're lucky she finished it so quickly. You sure just this's gonna impress the Tengu?"

He gave her a knowing glance. The glass of his eyes glittered in the new sun's rays.

"If they don't expect it, anything works."

O - O - O - O

He lifted open the lid, and placed it on the floor of Kanako's room, and then from within he hooked up a most brilliant specimen for the world to see.

Sanae's eyes sparkled with awe and hints of envy.

Suwako scoffed, almost giggling.

Invisible-Komachi grinned.

"So that's what the clothes-making part was all about~" the sly snickering made it only to her own ears.

Kanako cupped her gasping mouth.

On his hand flew the flag of Youkai Mountain: a kimono, whose symbolic metaphors captured the landmark within its weave. One with the most intricate of seasonal patterns, so silken and tailored to perfection that just merely pulling it out like he had done made it flutter like heavenly clouds. The dyes shone in the light, each color so strong that, like a projection, it reflected the rays and told its own story: the gold made pure gold envious, the snow-white invited slumber, the black outlines exuded histories of its artist, and the mellow pink would have made Lily White jealous. It was a garment for Queens, a piece of history in clothes form…

And the pearly-eyed Yasaka Kanako was going to wear it.

"We've got everything planned," he announced to all the ears in the room. Scanning the audience, he smiled, enjoying the attention, but then quickly snapped himself out of the thought. Now wasn't about him: it should've never been about him. This last shining of the spotlight, this last glance at the crowd before the stage was about her, and her alone.

He'd given her all the support he could give, and now? Now he wanted to see her rise to the occasion, like all the heroines that shared her story structure. He couldn't have done it by himself, though, but that was for another time.

"So…"

God's eyes laid upon the Goddess. The kimono folded back into its case.

"Are you ready, Lady Yasa-?"

Like a silent feather in the wind, she left her place.

Her feet tapped on the floor beneath the step.

And finally, she wrapped her arms around him. She'd cut him off at that moment.

Hands cupped his back, and she buried her cheeks into his neck, feeling the warmth of the one who truly helped, whose tragic story did not start with her tragedy. Keima's face pulled itself stiff with pleasant surprise, and then, when the feelings sank in, he sighed, his usual bored expression on his face. He reciprocated it back.

Who was this man?

That had been the question plaguing her mind throughout his time here. Every moment he'd come to make himself known and eager to discuss, she'd ask herself that, but never as the main focus, always lingering behind the shadow of her mind, hungering for answers, lusting for some way to satiate her curiosity. He was a God who exuded little Divinity, and yet shared an intellect far too refined for a Human. He was a recent creation, and yet bore wisdom of a thousand-year being. If he really was a God, he would've been a proud existence, and yet he had stooped so low just so that he could help her, lend her that helping hand to bring her out of the misery that was the loss of her Shrine, her home; her family's home.

Oh, what was this old baba doing? She was repeating, wasn't she? Well, she didn't care, anymore. This man came into her life like a leaf in the wind, and yet it grew into a great blossom that kept her days going.

"Thank you…"

Her voice was soft enough for only his ears to hear.

Her Shrine Maiden slapped both her cheeks red.

Her Godly roommate cooed and clapped.

His hands felt so nice around her.

"Thank you so much…"

"Kanako." He called to her. "Don't thank me yet-"

"Tut, tut, tut," she clicked her tongue playfully, "Even if it doesn't work, at least you've proven to the God you looked up to that you are worthy."

Keima sighed, and looked away from her.

O - O - O - O

"So…"

Komachi drawled as she tidied up the room they'd been staying in throughout the week, finding within him a courteous sense of decency to clean the place and make scarce any evidence of their existence when the time came and their memories had to be wiped. It had been a relatively uneventful week for the Shinigami, who'd been in her indefinite house arrest till the fourth day, and she had been enjoying herself with her naps. It did get boring, of course, unless Katsuragi brought one of the books from Suzunaan to her to read, courtesy of the Crow Tengu who'd been nice enough to help them. Overall, the week had been monotonous, but with the climax at hand, she couldn't help but enjoy herself. Not that she deservedly earned it, but at least she could sympathize with all the happy players in the stage.

Placing the tatami mats back into the closets, she wiped a single sweat off her brow, having single-handedly done all the chores, and turned around to speak to the man relaxing on the floor.

"You see the endin', now?"

God pushed up his spectacles, and smirked.

"No," he declared bluntly, "Not really."

"E-eh?" Komachi's shoulders slumped, her expression breaking, "W-wait, so you're not-"

"Kanako controls the pace," Keima explained, as he pushed himself up, ignoring the loving 'oh~' from the Shinigami, "It's not about whether or not I see the ending, but if she sees the same one as I do…

"Whether or not the gap in her heart disappears if she resolves it with the Tengu, or with me, it all comes down to what she wants, now."

With that done, he turned his gaze back to her and muttered a simple command: "Disguise."

It took only a moment for her to realize what he'd meant, and, with a quick whipping of her hagoromo, she'd created his elaborate dapper man's disguise that he had used in the beginning. This time, though, she'd thought to put her own twist to the design, emblazoning it with imitation gold thread that streaked down from one shoulder down, and replacing the boring buttons of his vest with that of her coins. Y'know, to make him look just a bit more God-like. Honestly, she thought it looked nice, but what did she know.

"You like it?" she asked with a smile, hefting her scythe upon her shoulders once again.

Keima looked left and right.

"Why did you make me look tackier?"

"Respect your elder's design choices, you damn mortal."

"Should I call you 'old hag' then?"

"I'll hit you." She flourished her scythe.

Keima immediately bowed apologetically at the display.

Touhou girls were STRONG, and he didn't want that scythe planted on his head, by the end of this.


	23. I,Divinity

Under the orders of a rather depressed-looking Momiji, the White Wolves had to stave their blades. In fact, most of them were missing from their posts, a phenomenon unheard of for most. It's a good thing no one reported on it, because those willing to enter Youkai Mountain in search of the Tengu's fortune would have been doing so, right now.

As the gorges of Tengu lands began to lose their shadows, an entire society halted. Everything stopped. The waterwheels creaked to a halt, the market practically lost its right to existence, and all the streets were empty.

Except for one.

Shameimaru balked. Her coffee splashed on the desk and her news articles for the morrow.

What was-? There was some commotion outside! Something was happening right outside her own damn office, and she didn't know about it!? Today was supposed to be a slow day, right? Come on, Tengu never celebrated the Eve of Soko, so what's with the ruckus outside, the gasping, the murmuring, the scoop that's landed right behind her desk?! A must-print on her newspaper?! She grabbed her camera, and opened the window-

 _Clackclack_

Aya blinked.

"Eh?" She tugged harder on the handles, and made earthquakes for the termites in her window frame. A cold bead of sweat rolled uncomfortably slowly down her face.

Hurriedly, she turned and strutted to the door, and then proceeded to push its hinges till they creaked. Both exits, locked. She couldn't get out of her own newspaper office.

"Ayayayayaya," she babbled as she shoved forward once more, "What's going on? Hello?" Her fists knocked on the door. "Is anyone out there?! Someone unlock this damn thing!"

Rearing back, she kicked the door with all her might, but, to her surprise, it did little to the wood construct. Instead, she tumbled back, and crashed into her desk, sending papers and a bit of the leftover coffee all around. Crumpled on its surface, she stayed paralyzed with bafflement, unable to understand what was happening to her.

Even more cold beads tumbled down.

No, she had one more place! Yeah, can't be scared, now! Crafty little Shameimaru Aya always has a secret hatch on the roof just for the quick getaway!

 _Clackclackclack_

…

An avalanche crashed down on her crinkling smile.

"SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF **HEEEEEEEEERE**!"

Komachi cringed as the door began its withstanding of the barrage being inflicted upon it. Good thing the hagoromo reinforced all the exits pretty well. She didn't know HOW powerful its binds were, but if it was doing its job against the Tengu, then it was fine, either way. And she even covered for that pesky hatch, thanks to Hatate spilling the beans.

"I NEED TO KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING! HELLOOOOOO!?"

Now, she didn't know why Katsuragi wanted Aya locked in her own office the moment he learnt of her name from their comrade Crow Tengu, but if it was so important that he had to insist on it, then she supposed she had to listen. Besides, the window in her office made for a fine view in this now-empty building, and the lack of any employees- all of them had presumably left to watch the spectacle unfolding outside- made for a strange, surreal experience as she watched her buddy carry out his most ambitious plan yet.

She chuckled at the sight.

From the high window, no one could see her; no one even bothered to look up. That just made the vista much more comfortable a lookout.

"Good luck, Katsuragi…"

He took a sip off some random Tengu worker's coffee mug.

Needs more milk.

"We're gonna need it."

O - O - O - O

At first, Lord Tenma heard rumors. His retainers had been a cheery group the past few days, clearly celebrating their triumph against the Moriya without so much humbleness as the cachinnation that they emitted throughout the halls, but now, as the news slowly seeped under their skin of influence, the Tengu order found themselves shaken deeply.

As slowly as the encroaching prophecies of the inevitable, rumors became reports, and reports became truths that sent the court into murderous drive.

"Impossible!"

"What does that insolent God think she is!?"

"I've received reports that she's just finished her parade through the settlement!"

"Get me my robe, Mano, my robe, do you understand!?"

"Where are the White Wolf Tengu? Haven't they arrived yet?!"

"Milord!"

The lord of the Tengu, propped nicely on his pillow behind the bamboo curtain, cocked his resting head to the Great Tengu genuflecting to his left.

"Yes?" he answered, a tantalizing hint of curiosity in his voice. His hand slid off his cheek, before it locked itself on its respective kneecap.

His retainer spared no time as he exclaimed in panic to his superior: "Yasaka Kanako is in the Tengu settlement," his lungs cried louder, his head jerked down from the exertion, "And she is coming to our Palace!"

What grave news that was, most of the Great Tengu thought, for not only did it threaten their beloved and calming secrecy, whatever she was here for must have been of the most ill of intents. Every second of her presence being felt in the Tengu settlement meant either panic, or destruction. Stories told of rampaging beings of Divinity, whose powers amplified upon being fed the most volatile of fuels: rage. Civilizations, destroyed; kingdoms swept into dust; great disasters befalling upon those who dared tempt them. If this was the case now, then their trepidations would cause mass hysteria. It would mean bringing in every citizen of the settlement into war, and, sure, every one of them held great affinity in combat- it was in their Youkai blood that such was true- but to think that innocent lives were on the line... yes, they would die brave deaths defending those they loved, but to have this cabinet of rulers and retainers be labeled the one who lead them to their deaths brought fear upon the proud ancestors of the Tengu of old. Even in the oldest, most wise of Tengu, no one was free of the dread in their heads.

Lord Tenma couldn't care less.

Voice a bore, he asked, unexcited of the prospect, "Anything else I don't know?"

Surprised, the Great Tengu quickly shook his head to rid himself of the shock of such a mediocre answer. Folding his head back into its bow, he continued, "Fortunately, none of our Crow Tengu have reported any signs of aggression, but we are keeping-"

"Where are the White Wolves?"

"A-ah, yes, w-we are not sure, as of the moment. Sources are conflicting, and-"

The sound of a slamming shoji cut off the report. A Crow Tengu tumbled into the room.

"Lord Tenma, I've seen it myself: the White Wolf Tengu are actually escorting her through the village!"

"What?!"

"The Wolf Tengu-!?"

"Have they gone mad!?"

Lord Tenma himself straightened his figure in surprise.

Now what is this development?

"Anything else, my Crow?"

"N-nothing to report, other than the fact that she's being transported on some rickshaw."

"And who's pulling it? It cannot be a Wolf Tengu, could it?"

"N-no, it is no Wolf Tengu. In fact, it looks to be a Human!"

The room gasped. A human, in the Tengu settlement!? Blasphemy! What was she doing?!

"A... human? Have you confirmed this?"

"N-no, milord. He… he wears odd clothing, and his face was hidden behind a Noh mask."

"A Noh mask...?"

"In any case, the court must act quickly! She is on her way to-"

Lord Tenma drowned out the voice in his head, because, at that moment, he'd seen something on the other side of the room. At the far end of the court was a door, which, when opened, revealed the cavern's scenery for Lord Tenma to see. One of the Great Tengu had been surveying the horizon in hopes of catching sight of her, and, after many tense seconds of watching, had seen the intruders and was stumbling backwards.

The Tengu rushed to crowd the opening, watching and leaning down to have a better look at the phenomenon. Lord Tenma shuffled on his seat, perturbed, yes, but staying calm of the whole ordeal. Something must have spurred her to come in a literal parade through Tengu society, and he was mighty curious of what that convincing notion could have been. It was silly, then, that his retainers would continue their frolic in such a silly way. They should be preparing to answer this odd breach, and ascertain the cause of it.

Still, he was rather unnerved of the timing. Tomorrow was when Yasaka would be kicked out of her house, and yet she chose to come here just a day before? Never mind the question of where she had been in the days prior, was this some blatant statement against them? He supposed the Wolf Tengu escorting her were doing it under their obligation to dutifully resolve the issue between leaders, but what if that was not the case?

Could it be... in the first few days, she' been gaining her power base from the mountain denizens, and were planning a coup against him?

"She's right in front of the steps!"

"Quickly, to your places! To your places!"

"We must not let her make us look like fools in this affront to our sovereignty!"

The Great Tengu moved quickly. Without wasting any time, they weaved past each other to their places, and made silent the room in less than a minute.

The panic that had plagued the room had gone in an instance. Wizened Tengu knew when to shed off the unneeded emotion, and now the court of Lord Tenma was cold as stone.

They waited, minds prowling; ready to pounce; to deride and belittle the defeated Goddess of her stunt.

Tenma sighed quietly to himself. Expressions of panic transcend all portrayals, he assumed as he took a puff of his pi-

And then the royal rickshaw appeared from his scenic window.

Lord Tenma's lips stopped short of the mouthpiece.

A rickshaw?

Up here?

His chambers was stories high from the ground.

But then he noticed the White Wolf Tengu carrying it by its sides, their faces tense, but in control. The tell-tale Noh mask of the puller was in his sights, as well, although instead of flying, this mysterious individual was, in some comedic sense, hanging from the rickshaw's handle.

And no one else, but he, noticed.

Lord Tenma smirked.

"What an entrance, Lady Yasaka."

The first geta tapped on the floor, and then the creak of the rickshaw sent the entire court spinning their heads from the main entrance back to that faithful opening. Their minds had been so focused on said main entrance that the silent flight of the Wolf Tengu took no one's attention.

Rendered speechless, his retainers gawked at the abrupt intrusion. Surely, the reluctant, and now regretful White Wolves in the room with them scurrying to their tactical spots in the perimeter, were their greatest source of shock. Lord Tenma, though, noticed the veil on the rickshaw, and, eyes trailing down that strange shadow beneath, a hem of some dress beneath, protruding out of the curtain. What was so valuable on her person that she herself had to hide from sight?

And then the stranger put down the rickshaw, and spoke up, his voice muffled behind the mask, yet the effects nowhere near as suppressed. They were confident words, and the Great Tengus' ears pricked up at them:

"Tengu, please welcome Lady Yasaka Kanako of the Moriya Shrine!"

He carefully tiptoed over the handle, and bowed.

At the sudden reminder, the Tengu once again hardened. Gazes crossed into glares. Hands balled into fists. Amazement twisted, spun and wrung into callous belligerence.

Lord Tenma put down his pipe.

"Yes," he muttered, audible enough for the room to hear, "Please. I wish to see her once again."

In the first handful of seconds, nothing answered. Sweat began to ooze. Fist loosened. Crossed glares made way for furrowed and raised brows. Pfft, how interesting. Instead of exiting in times of great tension, she had thought to wait till the tension in the room eroded slightly.

Then, as if on cue, her fingers pierced through the silk curtain. Autumn nails stared back.

Her body leaned forward...

And then a God emerged from beyond.

Lips parted into gaping holes. Eyes rolled out of their sockets.

Twice in one day, the Tengu of Lord Tenma's court couldn't speak.

She was beautiful.

Flowing hair deep as the sea. On her shimenawa hung autumn leaves, the most crisp and colorful, but that wasn't the true garment that was the cause of their awe-stricken symptoms. It was that kimono. It was like Youkai Mountain had clothed her in its best. Whoever had tailored it was a genius among genius for its autumn collage was but a regalia of exuberance; patterns breathtaking; it looked so soft that he, and his retainers, grew envious of its comfort.

She took her first steps forward, and it was like the atmosphere in front of her pulled aside to make way for her presence. He couldn't help but stare at her face, the proud look she had donned gone without a trace. Only respect emanated from the closed eyes and lips.

This was no proud God.

This was Yasaka Kanako.

She wanted them to know that, and know that they did.

She took her seat. There was no blanching crossing of legs. Instead she sat, prim and proper on the pillow.

Lord Tenma almost smiled.

He was frankly impressed.

But being beautiful and courteous did not excuse anything.

With swift hands, he scooped up his unbreakable pipe, and swung it behind him. The taiko drum boomed.

Order!

Thumped the taiko drum.

Order!

And awe and frozen bodies thawed into order. Lord Tenma sat straight. His figure towered over the Goddess. After a long inhale, he asked, voice echoing through:

"Yasaka Kanako, do you not understand what you have done?"

She did not respond. She looked to not have even moved.

Unfazed, Tenma continued: "I was under the impression that you understood the results of our last meeting together. Was there not to be anymore discussion? Now you have come, cutting your great swathe through the Tengu settlement, and you've even put the White Wolf Tengu under your servitude? And what is with the entrance? Frankly..."

Two taps of the pipe on the floor.

"I am impressed."

The retainers collapsed into a mix of shocked gasps and hesitant nods.

Yasaka bowed her head at the compliment, a smile refined by a thousand cherry blossoms appearing on her face.

"I suppose you are here to... prove to me something," he took a puff of his ornament, "Or have you come for… something else?"

Yasaka stood up from her spot, and opened her eyes. She always had a certain wizened depth in her eyes every time they converged together, but now, in this escalating moment of allowed intrusion, they seemed abyssal. The snake was staring at the Crow, and yet it had just now bowed and acknowledged the avian's great qualities. Humbleness had been created in the conniving creature, and this Tengu, unlike those under his wing, was eager to listen to its plea.

"Lord Tenma, of the Tengu."

She gave her bows, but this time, there was a flourish of hands that came to an abrupt stop at the apex. To the untrained eye, it was but an elegant display of how flexible one's wrist and fingers could be, perhaps some step in a belly-dancer's hand motions. To the ancient Tengu text, however, it was the highest greeting a Tengu could give to another, and that did not go unnoticed.

The Wolf Tengu shivered.

The Great Tengu paled.

Lord Tenma almost flinched.

How did she learn that? No Tengu would enact such a thing to any other species- no, the greeting itself had become so archaic that no one here would have knowledge of all its steps, save for forlorn memories made fully resurrect by her display- so how could she have learnt it if not by asking them?

Was this the extent of her efforts? No, it couldn't be. No diplomat would think so. He leaned forward, and, with just his presence alone, beckoned her to continue.

The strange pose at the end of this highly coveted greeting did smudge her calm smile slightly, but she recovered quickly, and stood back up. Tenma could sense the nervousness in her, but her adamance to continue had obfuscated that mental note. He wondered if it did the same with his stubborn retainers.

"I come seeking forgiveness for my actions in the mountain, and yet I find myself unable to concede them away."

Eyebrows rose.

Lord Tenma hummed curiously.

What was the point, then?

Good thing she didn't keep them guessing.

"Thus, as the representative of the Moriya Shrine, which blesses these lands with bounty and nourishment, I am here to make an offer."

"An offer?" Lord Tenma shuffled in his seat, discomforted by the proposal. Of course she would risk it now, in these last moments of her Godhood upon this mountain. Because playing the compromise card meant nothing else beyond that.

"That's a... daring move, Lady Yasaka," he wryly remarked, tapping his pipe once again on the floor, "If we believe one of these 'offers' is not to our favor, we will cast you out of this room. There is nothing else after the bargaining, yes?"

She nodded, "That is true. Which is why I must get this first issue out of the way..."

And then the mysterious stranger began to move. His hands dove into the rickshaw with precise movement, and from within it he pulled out a scroll which he, with rigid, professional finesse, unfurled for the court to see. Mutters and whispers bubbled from the two sides of the seated Great Tengus. Lord Tenma had to squint to understand what was calligraphed on the paper.

She began to explain. "As you might remember, in our first moments, you struck a deal with the Moriya, in which we would bless this Mountain, whilst you supply us with faith. In the later months, though, the faith we were receiving from the Mountain had decreased, which was why I proposed the Ropeway in the first place."

Lord Tenma contemplated her words. He was but one Tengu. He held his end of the bargain, at least, but he had no say over the populace. That was the duty of his retainers...

"Oh..."

Two taps of the pipe.

"I see..."

Lord Tenma scoffed. He felt the gaze of the room fall upon him.

"So you wish for us to reopen the Ropeway, on the notion that our wavering faith in you was the main cause for its conception? "

Yasaka nodded.

How bold a request, like taking on an Oni with a headbutt as the first attack. Sure, in that scenario, the physical implications would have meant one dead attacker, but it nonetheless would get an Oni's respect. On another aspect of her argument, she was basically blaming his retainers too. He respected these men and women who guided him and helped him in managing the settlement for so many decades. They were his comrades, childhood friends, partners in life.

But he supposed she was right on one point; Tengu were rather sly when it came to alliances, and his retainers were at fault. A true Tengu warrior never betrays its allies; he supposed his peers had forgotten that part of the Tengu's dogma, as they have many others.

"Yes, I suppose I understand," he shrugged, "If you are to convince us, and if your other offers suffice, we will see to reopening the Ropeway as compensation for our loss faith."

Tenma scoffed when he heard the gasps.

"Thank you so-"

Kanako caught herself amidst the excitement. She cleared her throat, and started again.

"The Moriya Shrine thanks you. Now, on to the next point, the first of our proposals."

"Speak."

Another nod.

Very… humble. Inching close to obedience.

"Lord Tenma," she spoke up in volume, waving a hand wrapped in gauze across the room, "As you know, the Moriya wishes to stay in this Mountain. We have been blessing these soils with the richness it deserves for some years, now, and all this time, we have rarely been given much as thanks, excluding the dwindling faith from your people."

Lord Tenma grimaced. He could positively sense the retainers' suspicions boiling.

"But…"

He perked up. Where was this going?

"I suppose… that it was our fault for not offering more… tangible gifts to the original denizens of this Mountain."

The bushy brows of the Great Tengu rose and furrowed. Drumming curiosity with just the snap of her words.

"Thus, I'm here to correct that mistake of ours. My disciple…"

She gave a glance back to the individual behind the Noh. He was not sure of it, but Tenma thought she saw a twinkle in her expression.

"If you may?"

What this so-called 'disciple', whom he had never seen or heard from past reports before, had laid out to him made his curiosity rocket. His hand incessantly stroked his chin as he examined them with darting orbs. A shimenawa, almost like hers, came to lay itself as the first to be shown, bound well with beautiful straw. A wizened mind would immediately understand:

I with the authority of a God am gifting you their prestige.

For I acknowledge you as my equal.

Then a stack of four onbashira, the size of a Great Tengu's upper arm, all tied in a little red ribbon.

Four pillars of the finest logs of the Mountain, to protect the four corners of your Palace.

What possession that is yours, I will protect.

And finally, an open scroll. A parable had been traced on its surface, one so intricately laid in the traditional concepts and tongue that the court, from its past experiences, understood it immediately. They had never read something like this before. No one could remember a story of its vein. Yes, it was simple, perhaps flawed if the court had the time to discuss its true meaning, but from first glance it spoke to them. The Great Tengu were rendered shocked, the White Wolf as well, but only the wise Lord himself looked intrigued.

This parable, I wrote from the heart and the memories of past hardships. A story of how the hurricane died down and settled with the flower fields, how the rains let up and allowed the birds to soar, how the fog relented and allowed the sun and the all-seeing to watch over the lands once more.

At the end, she signed it off to Tengu society. Not to Lord Tenma himself.

Give this to the people, for they must not forget my promises to them.

Lord Tenma scoffed. Two taps.

"I…" he flicked his thumb on his nose, wiping the impressed tingle aside, "Commend you on these thoughtful gifts."

Nowhere near enough, though.

"But if you're here to bribe me with your woebegone status, then I must-"

"There is more, Lord Tenma," she cut him off, "Please wait a moment…"

"'Wait a moment'? Yasaka, I don't see any room for waiting in this discussion."

She didn't seem to listen. In fact, she was whispering to his 'disciple' over something he couldn't really catch. They sounded like… a coded message? The sentences made little sense, considering the terms he used- something about the 'Yokkyuns' and the 'Dolphin' not being here, yet- and he couldn't help but wonder over what they were speaking of. Was he mistaken, or did she look rather worried? What impetus did these things hold? Without a doubt, they sounded like real things, so where were they? Lord Tenma began to worry as the impatience escalated in the room. If nothing was to come of this, then what momentum she carried into the court would have been squandered.

But then, from outside his room, a couple of footsteps began to beat. He turned his gaze to the door, as did everyone else. Four voices began to pass through the wall.

"I-I'm not sure I'm prepared-"

"Oh, relax! I should be the one getting all scared and stuff: I'm representing the Kappa, here! Sorry, sorry, I'll be quiet…"

"Lord Tenma's room is right there, right, Shizuha?"

"Yup… It is the right room right, Miss Wolf? Oh, yeah, I was correct. Do you think he still has the fan I gave him?"

"A fan? You're worried about him throwing away a-? He's the Lord of the Tengu, you should be worried about other things!

"He was really nice when I came by, though~"

"But to think the Goddess needs our help…"

"H-how're you two so-"

A scream cut the last voice off, and a bulge began to form on the wall. The wood began to crack, and the paper started tearing. Kagiyama Hina crashed into the room.

Lord Tenma and his Great Tengu fish-lipped.

Kanako's mouth hung open.

One retainer was forced to kissed the floor.

The faces of Kawashiro Nitori, Shizuha and Minoriko Aki, and a hopeless Inubashiri Momiji peeped into the room.

"Uh…" the Kappa drawled awkwardly, placing a hand on the back of her head, "We're here, L-Lady Kanako…"

Before long, the newcomers had found their seats around the rickshaw, much to the perturbance of the Tengu. Many irked faces turned to the White Wolf Tengu that had brought them along, but Lord Tenma, with just a thump of his drum, dismissed the issue. Were these the essentials of Yasaka's negotiation? Surely, this was no coincidence. In any case, it at least meant that the meeting could go underway, but to have brought even the Aki sisters here? Surely they, being Gods as well, would favor taking the Moriya Shrine for themselves- yes, it was a rather harsh supposition of their personalities, but, honestly, no God would lose that chance in becoming the guardian deities of mountains such as this one. So why did Kanako bring her own replacements here?

"So… I welcome our guests into my court," he said to the mostly-fidgeting cast, pushing the contingency aside, "So may you please continue, Lady Yasaka."

Kanako sighed, most probably in relief, before she gave her curt nod at his request.

"Now, this is regarding the issue with the Kappa."

Nitori tensed herself till she jumped.

"I have had communications with our resident Kappa Kawashiro-"

"Eh? W-we did?"

"And I believe it is fitting for her to convey the compromise we've come to agree upon-"

"Hina just gave me a scri- O-okay, I'll keep quiet… Sorry…"

Kanako took her eye off the blue-haired girl, her serpentine glare reverting into calm normalcy. "One that, we hope, will resolve your issue with our dealings with the Kappa."

"Eh, there was an…" Nitori's eyes darted around the room. "O-okay, I guess… May I stand, Lord Tenma?"

"You may."

Nitori did as she asked, and, with a clearing of her throat, she began her explanation:

"Well, you see, we… uh, 'discussed' with each other, and I've got the Kappa to agree on how we do our future projects around the Mountain. So… Look here, we're thinking of, uh, of letting you guys in on the plan, per se…"

"Explain."

"W-well, see," she fidgeted and fumbled with her bundled fingers, "In future projects, we… we… let me think… Ah, we would like to talk about them- discuss them, yeah?- with you guys. The Tengu get the veto vote, a-and stuff, so if you don't like it, you can call it off, o-or ask us to do it somewhere else."

Tengu ears perked up.

Lord Tenma rolled his eyes. Yes, of course they would have been interested. His Great Tengu loved being in control, especially with the other residents of the mountain, and besides, the offer had been something he'd been waiting for, ever since the first time he raised concerns regarding their 'damage' to the Mountain. How a proposition as simple as letting the Tengu in on the discussion took so long to get proposed on the floor, he didn't know, or remotely come to reason with, but even so, it was nothing too novel, and, really, the Moriya would have benefited from it coming sooner.

But then the Kappa kept going, and he realized that there was more.

"A-also, we're fine with reclaiming the land… if we're given something in compensation. It's a pretty big job for us Kappa to just tear down all the dams and construction, b-but don't worry, Lady Yasaka's promised us the payment. You guys just have to say the word."

Now that made the entire thing much more tempting.

Lord Tenma had never found himself interested in the issue between the Kappa's technological fantasies and constructionista tendencies, and he held no stakes in this proposed reclamation, but he'd been forced to speak of it in the last meeting, because the issue had been brought up by his retainers. He couldn't care less what they did to their side of the Mountain, but, perhaps as some airy excuse to scapegoat the Goddess some more in some, albeit successful, effort to delegitimize her position in the mountain, the Great Tengu insisted upon him taking their side in the whole debacle. Yes, there was no hiding their intentions: they were belligerent over the presence of the Moriya on their dear Mountain.

But with this? They would be fools not to accept such a simple, yet damning solution to their woes.

He took a whiff of his pipe to tranquilize his excited self to a calm.

Suddenly coming by with so much, and potentially more? With a newfound personality that he hadn't seen from her, before? Yasaka Kanako, you have learnt your lesson…

And you are making a truly valiant stand to show it.

"Now, with that out of the way-"

"Wait a minute," Lord Tenma stopped her, "Should the court not judge your proposition, first?"

Kanako faltered, and even if she tried her best to veil it in her unmoving stature and behind her fall-like sleeves, he caught panic in her eyes.

But then, out of the corner of her shoulder, her disciple's fingers rose from beneath, and cupped the blades.

With the snap of a finger, she calmed.

His brows rose, but no question could stream from him, as she had begun her response to the question.

"I don't wish to dilute the discussion, Lord Tenma. Instead of judging each and every one of them, how about you judge them all as a collective, once all are offered to you."

Tenma nodded in agreement. Truly, a bold statement hidden beneath elegance.

She was really sure that whatever she was offering was going to win them back.

"Then continue, Yasaka."

She bowed.

"Now, Lord Tenma, the Aki sisters were the Goddesses slated to replace my position as deity of this Mountain, as per your demands. I found it troubling that you seemed to not have made any effort to ask for their opinion."

Well, why would they? The entirety of his court had expected no less celebrations from them. He'd already gone through this in his head, and still he couldn't understand why she would bring them here to testify for her, of all things. Still, he had his doubts over that hypothesis. Perhaps there was something he and his supporters had missed out in their evaluation? Whatever it was that spurred her to enlist their help, he wanted to see.

Shizuha, the older of the sisters, stood up first, and made a curtsy to the leader of the Tengu.

"First, may I ask, how's the hauchiwa fan, Lord Tenma?" she asked in her little polite tilt.

Lord Tenma chuckled heartily to her. "It's done me well. A very fine gift; the Tengu extend their wings in thanks."

She nodded in acceptance of her compliments, and straightened herself till she was staring directly at the bamboo curtain. Ah, that thing; he'd been behind this thing for so long that it seemed to not exist in his consciousness, anymore.

"Regarding the move to the Moriya Shrine, Lord Tenma, it's a pleasant surprise, for sure. It has been long since me and my sister have truly prospered as Gods, and have a Shrine to call home."

See, even she agrees-

"But, Lord Tenma, we are perfectly content living at the foot of the Mountain."

"Hmm? And why would that be so?"

"W-well," she scratched her cheek, abashed, "Lord Tenma, we don't see ourselves as anywhere near worthy of representing Youkai Mountain. That's not all: we don't really want to subject what followers we have to the strenuous and time-consuming exercise of going up the Ropeway just to meet us. They are devout, and dear to me and Minoriko, and to place us so far away from where they are able to go without skipping any moment of their agricultural activities… that's not good at all for them. Besides, it's tradition that we bless their farmland every Autumn. Wouldn't it be tiring for us to travel so far to see the people of the Human Village every Autumn?

"Although we're grateful for the opportunity, it's just not for us. Kanako has been our friend for more than a few centuries, since our first generation of Gods, and we don't see it fit to just take their Shrine away, like that. Even if we did, we'd bring nothing but perpetual Autumn. We can't influence the skies, or the earth. Only a harvest that comes once a year and the color of the leaves are what we're capable of doing. So, I apologize, Lord Tenma…"

The first sister, to the surprise of the court, folded herself into a prostration.

"But we have to decline your invitation."

Lord Tenma's brows rose in surprise.

Well, he supposed they should've asked, first.

"I see…" he muttered, shuffling on his seat and tapping his pipe twice once again, "Thank you for sharing with us your thoughts and views. I suppose your sister has no words?"

Shizuha raised her head as she answered, "Well, I thought that as the older sister, I should represent the both of us."

"True… True…" he repeated airily to himself. "Well, then, you may return to your seat. Anything else, Kanako? What about Kagiyama, here? Has she anything to share?"

The Apotropaic Goddess shook her head. "N-no, milord. I was merely the one who helped Lady Yasaka bring her messages to the other three. S-she thought I should be, well, allowed to follow them, if only to see the results of my assistance."

Hmm, he supposed he could excuse that. "Then we may-"

"Hold on."

The court braked.

Lord Tenma tilted his head. "Hmm?" he hummed, staring deep at the Goddess, "What else do you have?"

"I..." Kanako paused. Odd. Tenma swore the expression right before signified the confidence of someone prepared for this, but somehow something arose within the Goddess's mind; it seemed so, barring his own judgement on the shift.

Why doubt now? The gifts and discussion were enlightening, why ruin it?

What made you stop, Yasaka Kanako?

"I... I need to be excused."

Suddenly, to the shock of the room, the Goddess stood up and stumbled out of the room. Lord Tenma stared, himself in utter bewilderment. She looked practically in severe discomfort- had the nerves come for her stomach? A grumble of disappointment exited her throat.

There was no way out of this. His retainers were watching for his next order, and all expected what was to come. "If... Lady Yasaka cannot continue, then I must adjourn this meeti-"

"NOT YET!"

The voice echoed throughout the room.

Necks craned behind them.

Lord Tenma snapped his eyes forward.

In the midst of wild eyes stood her disciple. His left, a frightened Nitori having flinched and fallen, staring with panicked fear in her eyes. The right, the three Gods, all leaning away. He donned the stance of no warrior, but the Lord could tell; he was not letting the opportunity of his master go.

"And who are you to order us to-?"

"Lord Tenma, let me tend to her. Please."

The Lord hardened his gaze, and yet, though he knew of his intensity wafting through the concealing curtains, the disciple stood his ground. Conviction. Such sheer stubbornness in the face of the odds he had tossed against him.

And he sounded so familiar, too.

Lord Tenma shook his head. "Then you may." The collective gasps in the room spoke much of his decision, but he might as well be like this little human, and brave the consequences. Like how a great warrior and loyal servant should. "Attend to her at once, then we will hear her final precedence. Away with you, and Godspeed."

Under the Noh mask, he smiled.

"Thank you..."

And with that, Katsuragi Keima rushed for his Lady Yasaka.

Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!

O - O - O - O

What's happening?

Her feet stumbled and slid on the wooden walkways and halls.

W-why am I-?

Hands gripped and grasped wildly for something to support the shaking mess.

I-I can't-? No, I-I thought I still had time...

Yasaka Kanako reached for a ledge to hold, but she could not grip it, and in that moment she fell to the floor, letting out a thud that shook through her whole existence. She was close enough to have reached for it. She was close enough to have touched it.

But she couldn't.

Because Yasaka Kanako was disappearing.

"No, no, not yet...!" she muttered, repeating those words so tragically to herself. The tears began to leak through her eyes. This body of hers could not stop juddering as it lost its gleam. She couldn't even breathe properly. "I-I can't. I was so close...!"

Time, that fickle being, had finally caught up with her. It had dug its claws and had started rending her flesh off her silhouette. So why... why did it have to come now? Why not later, where she could have triumphed beyond it and invalidated its future?

Why not sooner?

Struggling to her feet, Yasaka Kanako sluggishly shuffled forward. She had to leave. This disappearing, she needed faith. She needed Suwako to help her sustain herself for one more moment, just one more. She had to go past the towering stairs, she had to climb the mountain, she had to find her.

And Yasaka Kanako couldn't do it.

"Kanako!"

A familiar voice wafted into her ears. Turning her weakened form, she saw, in the distance, framed by the walls to the right, and the open view of the bright caverns to the left, Katsuragi Keima running after her. Her disciple. Her fellow God.

"Keima..."

She stepped forward.

And collapsed into his arms.

It was fortunate that the man found her so soon, lest she stumbled blindly into the stairwell and hurt herself. In any case, he hadn't the time for this. Keima scanned the mood exhausted Goddess's body from top to bottom, and realized, to his horror, that she was fading away.

No, not now...

"Kanako, you're-"

She cut him off. "Yes, I-I know. My time... it's up... It's up, Keima, and I couldn't stop them..."

She choked back the sobs. The wetting shoulder she rested on indicated enough on how well she held back the tears. Her dissolving eyeliner scarred her.

"W-why? I thought I c-could do this, but... but I've doomed them, Keima! I've doomed them as much as I have f-forsaken everything! My past, my present, my future...! I-I couldn't fix it! Am I really a God, or just someone w-who thought she was special because people started worshipping her!?"

Keima bit his lips to keep in the regrets; she slowly sunk down to his chest. She still stood tall on her knees, but she could not stand any further.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm just... Keima, why did you curse yourself? With G-Godhood? This curse! This damn curse!"

Keima stared in solemn silence as she wept on his garments, her entire form shuddering with such rage it churned at her fading tips.

"I couldn't protect them..." a hollowness took over her, "I couldn't protect them... I never did..."

"Stop it, Yasaka Kanako."

Kanako widened her eyes at his voice piercing her toiling.

"It was never about you."

She stared up. Total confusion clouded her already perspiring orbs. "Keima, what... are you..."

"It was never about you..." his voice, their syllables pierced the air around her, "It was always about you and someone else. You and those who propped you up. You and Lady Suwako. You and everyone you worked with to create the Incidents. Why stop now?"

She blinked, starry in her staring. "What...? What are you-?"

"What I'm saying... this isn't something you yourself have to bear."

Two hands grasped her translucent shoulders. Katsuragi Keima spoke to the Goddess herself.

"This was something you and I started. This was something you and Suwako and Sanae started. This is something you and the other Gods and the Kappa will finish, and this is something you and the Tengu can continue so far into the future. We made it this far, because you were willing to work with us. You CAN put down your pride, Kanako. Don't think this was your responsibility, because this is all our responsibilities, and no one regrets it, because this is you we're talking about, Yasaka Kanako! You came this far by helping and accepting help! You came this far...

"Because we loved you."

A brackish tear ruptured on landing.

As the sun rose, the cavern darkened. As the cavern darkened, the sconces blossomed. As the sconces blossomed

Kanako smiled through the tears.

"I guess... I've always been a narrow-minded fool, haven't I? From the beginning, till the end."

"No..." Keima put a hand on her forehead, and combed back her fringe, "You aren't that at all. And isn't the end. Because..."

Keima sighed.

"I don't see it yet."

In the dark, glowed crackling flames and two Divine beings.


	24. The Mountain That Yielded

The thread of waiting grew thin. Retainer mouths spoke. The Kappa grimaced. Momiji stared in nervous expectation at the stairs. Hina sweated anxious perspiration. Both sisters snapped their lost gazes everywhere. Lord Tenma's pipe started to tap its last.

The Great God's march, however, was not far.

From within the room, the eyes fell to Momiji's silhouette behind the parchment, where she jolted at the sight of something. Before she could slide open the door to the Lord's chambers, she opened them herself.

The retainers gawked.

Nitori gasped.

Hina's mouth crashed.

The Aki Sisters buried their jaws as fertilizer for the next harvest.

For from beyond the door, stood the God of the Mountain herself... but what happened to her face!? The eyeliner, it was all dribbling down her! Her hair looked disheveled, and her kimono, it was crinkled in the front. Her disciple, which none cared for, slipped back in as she moved.

"I'm sorry..." Kanako huffed, before she, to the incredulous horror of the Tengu, wiped- no, by the looks of the force she exerted, 'shoved away'- the stain on her face with her pristine, majestic sleeve. The beautiful artwork, ruined! Where was her appreciation for the craftsmanship!?

Lord Tenma, although himself concerned for the Goddess's sudden disappearance and now almost-as-sudden reappearance, didn't let one bit of detail slip his mind. He watched with renewed interest at her hair, her expression, her everything. The elegant and subdued gaze, the puckered lips and softness of her face was gone, replaced with that blazing glory of her past. And her walk. They were not dancing waltzes. They were the stomps of an enraged, belligerent woman. She had shed the faux way she carried herself. She was not Lady Yasaka Kanako. She was Goddess Yasaka Kanako.

"But Lord Tenma!"

She pointed a piercing finger into the air. The room shook. No one dared ever point so authoritatively at the Lord of the Tengu! Lord Tenma only remembered her nails to have been painted. When did she lose their coloring, he wondered.

"There is but one more offer, in honor of the Tengu."

Ah, of course. Lord Tenma, shuffling his seating, nodded as he took one puff of his pipe.

"Okay, then, what will it be?"

"An event… I propose a program between us, all of us," she swept her arm across the room, letting be shown her stained heavenly silken sleeves to terrified eyes, "And the people outside the Tengu Settlement."

The eyes of the court widened almost simultaneously.

Even her friends snapped awake, as if in disbelief over what was being proposed.

Tenma couldn't even close his mouth to keep the appetizing tobacco from seeping out."What?"

In that moment of respite, as all wide-eyed gawking lain themselves onto her form, Kanako shot out her Warlock's grin.

"Why would you think the other Youkai around Gensokyo and the Humans of the Human Village don't trust the Tengu? Is it their newspapers, too hasty in their weaving of 'conclusions'? Are they planning something against us denizens of the mountain? Or are they just fools who don't know their place?"

She quietened to let the chatter do the same.

"The problem, Lord Tenma, is that they don't know any better. About you, about the Kappa, the Oni, the Yamanba, anything. The Mountain is the most secluded part of Gensokyo's surface, save for its base and summit. You all..."

To the surprise of the Tengu, she waved her hand across the room. "You are all enigma! Alien, to all! Surely, there must be a way..."

Lord Tenma felt the discomfort lump in his stomach, right as she shot another pointing finger at him.

"A way to bridge that gap and make them recognize your strength! By 'informing' the populace, your people will be respected, the superstitions and suspicions will be cast aside for actual sense, rather than the nonsense you all seem to abhor; tension with the Humans and other Youkai groups may soften, and-"

"Are you telling us to open our borders?"

"Of course not," she answered, almost immediately, but the answer hadn't drawn all ears to her: it was that attitude, "We are asking you to tell us what you are like, not if we can enter your house uninformed. You potentially lose nothing, Lord Tenma, and gain the respect your kind so rightly wants from the other species living around the Mountain and beyond. Isn't that a deal you can't refuse?"

Lord Tenma stroked his chin in contemplation.

It was unfortunate, then, that in the heat of the moment, he had nothing to critic. Not that it was perfect- far from so. The proposal had been so out of everyone's comprehension and prediction that he couldn't even think to evaluate it properly. The Tengu were secretive for many reasons, but to have a second party enlighten the other races? That seemed mildly doable.

But then she continued, "In regards to the educational program: would it not also be an opportunity to show your face to Gensokyo, for once?"

At that, the court almost exploded.

Tenma tensed. A Tengu Lord never showed his or her face outside the Tengu settlement- it had been like that for centuries, generations, countless numbers of years even before the Oni disappeared from the Mountain. Why that was so, no Tengu could remember, but it had been an age-old part of the behavioral doctrine, that many seemed earnest to keep and maintain, even if there seemed to be no apparent reason to do so. His retainers were flaring; the other Gods and the Kappa were looking uncomfortable; she did not retreat. Surely, she couldn't seriously be proposing such a notion, especially in front of his conservative Tengu. She would be booed out, and he did not want such a brave fool such as her be evicted from the premise due to such a proposal…

Because he'd always wanted to talk face to face with another Youkai.

The court gasped, their eyes turned to their Lord. He had stood up, his silhouette now a sentinel observing the room.

Hands shaking.

Lips trembling

Tenma had never felt such excitement outside of battle, before. For years, he had been sealed in this settlement. Tengu did not travel to their alliance's meetings, they traveled to the Tengu; that had infuriated him to no end throughout his many years as the Lord of his people. And every time, when he had expressed his wish to see the sights, his retainers would return their answers in the form of photographs and actual geologically-detailed maps, like he was a foolish child locked beneath the basement. A Lord held many privileges, but it revoked what a Tengu had always dreamt of doing forever.

And finally, an opportunity had come…

His retainers were weakened, mentally exhausted from the barrage of surprises that had come their way. A God was proposing this idea to him, right in his court. And she had made it infallible by disguising it as something beneficial to Tengu society.

"And why… pray tell," he spoke, voice dry, and slow, trying his hardest not to slip, "Do you think this is such a good idea, exposing me to the world?"

Simple.

Easy.

Kanako grabbed the collar of her great kimono, and-

"Huh!?"

"Wha-?!"

"Haaaaaah!?"

Youkai Mountain's flag flew torn into the sky.

Shizuha cupped Minoriko's eyes.

Hina yelped.

Nitori tipped over herself and her bag.

Momiji snapped her jaw open.

Once more, did Lord Tenma's halls erupt louder than Mount Fuji's greatest days.

The War Goddess stood stalwart against the cacophony. Beneath the elegance were sculpted muscles, scarred by the unending, inevitable nature of human conflict, seared by the heat that brought perspiration to flee framed by the tight fabric around her breast. From clothed magnificence, to proud, bruming power. Why should she care to be modest in the midst of these traditional warriors of the wind. Was she supposed to cower, or was she supposed to stand with them in reciprocative respect for their own grand history.

Her hakama trousers hit the floor. She crossed her legs in defiance of their world.

To the retainers, the great Yasaka Kanako phased them out of her mind.

To her friends, Yasaka Kanako remembered to treasure then.

To family, Yasaka Kanako promised never to put them in harm.

To Katsuragi Keima, Kanako held dear in her heart.

And finally, to Lord Tenma, she leaned forward and stared through the bamboo curtains. Eyes met- she could tell. And finally, did she mutter:

"Because finally, it won't be awkward for me to ask you to have a drink with me~"

"Pfft-"

His blown raspberry attracted bewildered eyes to him. It… it almost sounded like he was about to-

"Bwahah… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAH!"

Lord Tenma's cackle echoed through his palace. Servants lost their footing, guards pounced at the nearest moving object out of sheer terror, and his retainers lost their jaws.

He couldn't control himself; he was in such a state of delirium, that he couldn't help himself but beat his taiko drum with his pipe in repeated, ravenous hounding, sending deafening cacophonies into the air. A loud crash signified the breaking of the instrument, silencing the room with disbelief. No one… no one had ever seen him act this way, a-and for him to suddenly… It was like an evil spirit had come upon him!

And then he turned round, and sat back down.

He huffed. He huffed some more! It was like he was sucking the tobacco powder out of his pipe, and once his lungs were pressing on his ribs, and its calming effects entered his bloodstream, he blew out his greatest exhalation! The entire room found itself clouded with smoke, and eyes and noses closed from the intoxicating scent, and as his nose whistled, his hand drummed his pipe on the floor, its tempo fast, almost fading into one another.

If she did learn of ancient Tengu traditions, then she must have known this- no, wait, she couldn't have known. Only the Tengu Lords and their meticulous training for capacious chests would have made enough space to fill entire rooms with the bounty of their pipes, because that was how the Tengu Lords expressed their highest gratitude to people, and in the past millennia, only he had ever done it once.

That time was now.

"OH MAY THE GREAT GODS COME DOWN AND SEE THIS DISPLAY, NOW!"

His booming euphoria made her stand, her hair and clothes noticeably unkempt from the wind and dust, yet herself still unshaken, unfazed.

"W-what, pray tell, do you wish to say?"

"You have proven yourself splendidly, today!"

Perhaps it had all been an act. Perhaps she had expected something different. Perhaps even in that height of her performance the curse of doubt followed clandestine in the dark corners of her mind, because, when she heard the final verdict, she almost tripped in surprise, her brazen, headstrong confidence toppling into disbelief. She instead opted for cupping her mouth. Her little band expressed their surprise in their own ways. Her face grew brighter with each sentence.

"May I complement your dress for the occasion! Truly a marvel of textile artistry."

"Ah- uh- T-thank you, but-"

"And that tearing off of the garment... How profound. Foolish of my retainers not to notice the significance! 'One must tear off the filigrees and fanciful appearances! Take Youkai Mountain's mystique off, and you shall see, within, great power rivalling Gods! Truly, you have a knack for meaningful depths I never expected such a selfish and stubborn person to hold!"

"And your approach to this entire meeting was profound. To strike my court with a proper rebuttal, then to bribe me with gifts, and then an amendment that no one can decline! Can you believe that, everyone?! You've even hooked the Goddesses that were supposed to replace you to come and speak for you! And that last one: what a gut-puncher, was it not, my retainers? My RETAINERS?!"

"Y-yes, milord!"

"Yes it was, yes!"

"I-I agree with the sentiment!"

"Hahahahahah! Good, good. And such informal speak at the end… Yasaka Kanako, you would not believe how long it has been since someone has shed their respect for me and seen me as just another Tengu, one with the attitude of a troublesome pup in his younger years. I will gladly come to your feast! Heck, this bold humbleness of yours must be commended! This will be the front page news! This will be a story remembered through the generations! The intercourse between our society and your Shrine will never die! Your shimenawa and onbashira might as well become cultural treasures! Lady Yasaka, I will not heed my retainers, for surely they do not understand the significance of all this, and instead make my own verdict! That verdict is…!"

"Oh my gosh!" one of the Aki sisters exclaimed.

Hina clapped.

Nitori giggled from the tickling atmosphere of triumph.

Kanako stood erect, once again donning her stance that loomed over most. No one forgoes standing at their most proper when receiving awards of the greatest caliber, posture most refined, feet stuck like unmoving pillars of the world in, around, and beyond her, and face stoic, of respectable graveness.

So why?

Why can't she stave off the flow of her eye's overflowing springs.

"YOU WILL STAY!"

Nitori, the sisters and the relatively silent Kagiyama made their standing ovations.

"Clap, my retainers! CLAP, OR I WILL DUEL YOU ALL MYSELF!!"

The court couldn't take it anymore.

Their dignity gone, and autonomy broken, they clapped, and made their reluctant cheers as the five- excluding the mysterious 'disciple'- rushed the Goddess of the Shrine to shake hands, and give their quick embraces. Kanako only let her neck crane down, lathering the floor with her tears. She had her Shrine back, and the respect of the leader of the Tengu. She was crying; she was joyous; victory tasted so... so nostalgic. She couldn't... she just couldn't. The only thing keeping her here, kept her feeling, kept her remembering the real world was her paling, trembling fists.

But then, another hand came to wrap around her fingers. The gentleness. The texture. The warmth. She knew who it was.

"K-Katsuragi..."

"Don't look at me," his muffled voice muttered to her. "I helped. That was it. Congratulations, Lady Kanako."

She puckered her lips, and let flow the invigorated stream.

Kanako detected disappointment in his first words, but by the time he said 'I helped', it had vanished. Was he regretful of something? What malicious thing harbored itself in his heart that pulled him so down in such a time as this? She could not help it: she pained to think that the God who had done so much to help her would waver in the wake of this victory, and it made her unable to enjoy her success.

"Hey," Nitori suddenly spoke up from behind her, a finger spotting the man and his mask, "Who's he?"

Noticing that it had been directed at her, Kanako cleared her throat, wiped the shameful tears, collected herself, and answered, quite calmly inside the continuous cheering, "Well, he's… a friend."

"T-the one who wrote the letter?" Hina shot forth, peering sheepishly at him as the Aki sisters inched around her to observe the stranger of their world, "He does reek of misfortune… Do you need cleansing? I can do it right now, i-if you-"

Before she could finish, he showed her the open palm of refusal and shook his head. The clapping had begun to stale, and Kanako, wishing not to linger, and wondering what her family would think of this, quickly uttered, "Well, well, how about we go to the Shrine and continue this conversation, yes? We'll have a gathering tonight, and-"

"A gathering?"

She twisted her head to Tenma, still hiding clandestine behind his curtain as he declared with hearty tongue.

"Yes, yes," the Lord's silhouette nodded as he contemplated something unsung, "How about you throw a feast in honor of this? My Tengu, call your Crows. Tell them to spread the news that a grand feast is to be held in the Moriya Shrine!"

Kanako sputtered at the sudden upscaling. "W-w-wait, w-we don't have the provisions for that large a feast!"

A bemused chuckle answered back from beneath Tenma's curtains, cutting her off. "Don't worry. We'll spare you some of our supplies. What good can ten extra barrels of sake in our storerooms do in the coming winter for us, huh?"

Every retainer pursed their shaking lips and creaking cheeks. Eyelids twitched. Bodies shook. Livid might as well be their middle names.

Kanako, though, found her shock converted into happiness, as she, too overjoyed for Sanity's good, furiously nodded in agreement, much to the embarrassment of her friends.

"Thank you, Lord Tenma," she said, her breathlessness from the strenuous act eliciting nervous coughs from the Kappa, "Your generosity is appreciated!"

Lord Tenma tapped his pipe one last time.

Katsuragi sighed at that same moment. In the midst of all the good cheer, only his did not smile.

The Runaway Spirit didn't leave. As expected.

"Now, you should know who's bringing the sake up, right, my Wolves?"

The Wolf Tengus deflated. Momiji's… well, everything drooped, but unbeknownst to all, a smile bloomed on her face. Her eyes lain on the man and his Goddess.

She sighed.

"What a day…"

O - O - O - O

The door to Aya's office finally burst open.

GASP!

It… it actually worked!?

Aya couldn't even begin to fathom the weight of that success. Her Crow Tengu heart of gold fluttered with limitless happiness as she pranced out to fresh air, because now she could go outside, see the sights, and write that tasty article of that commotion for her beloved newspaper to feature. Sure, it had grown quieter all of a sudden, but it just meant that it was something moving, and she had to track it down. Disregarding who locked her door, she had all day to find it, and no one should underestimate the fastest thing in all of Gensokyo!

She stepped on a folded page of a newspaper.

"Huh?"

Aya looked down to inspect the newfound object. This didn't look like an edition her press published. Why was someone else's paper here-?

' _Alliance of the Century:_

 _Tengu and Moriya make official friendly terms'_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _Kakashi Spirit News~_

Aya froze.

Judging by the severity of her expression alone, if she did not dispel that petrification and come back to her senses, she might as well stare at the paper with a shocked expression till the day she died.

O - O - O - O

Night had befallen, and the Shrine was bustling. Guests from all over Gensokyo had come, their travels taking them to have their dining in the illustrious peak of Youkai Mountain, and from his repeated peering from within his room through the inconspicuous hole that had been there on the shoji since Suwako's sudden entrance, he could confirm a vast array of the eclectic cast he was sure his old self, the one that had not yet been taken to Gensokyo, would have been ecstatic to meet.

Keima turned to the Shinigami indulging herself in the Moriya Shrine's festive offerings. Spotting his gaze, she stood up, patted her dress, and extended her bowl of fruits to him.

"Ya want some?"

He snorted, amused. Taking a peach from the bowl- he hoped it wasn't heavenly- he munched down on it, letting the juice seep through his teeth and paint his lips. He chewed, and then swallowed. One word exited his throat the very next moment.

"Sweet…"

"Don't tell me you don't like it, Katsuragi," she huffed at his cringing frown before taking a bite out of her own fruit, "It's good for you. Besides…"

The short pause brought a puzzled look from Keima, but before he could react, Komachi had stepped closer to him, and petted his head, respect oozing out of the affectionate gesture. She smiled like a kind maternal figure would to her child. The warmth of her fingers made him flinch.

"You did real good out there, helpin' her like that. I'm thinking you a different kind of man, y'know? You deserve something, for once- it's my job to help you, and that means making you feel comfortable while you're here- just… not in that way, of course."

She leaned her neck down, till her head was leveled with his. A smile was painted on her face.

"I can't have you exhausting yourself till you look like a corpse to your girlfriend Chihiro, right?"

He blinked, at first, before a half-grin emerged from his face. To Komachi's surprise he then shook his head, the hair rubbing on her palm making her detach from him. The sensation buzzing in her hands, though, told her it was real, and no figment or the imagination.

"I actually didn't do much."

"Eh?" she uttered, looking befuddled by his humbleness, "D-didn't you meet her to discuss and stuff?"

"I just made suggestions and the basic script. She prepared everything. The gifts, the rickshaw- funny that she had one in the warehouse- heck, she even practiced the lines herself."

"And…" Komachi's gaze shifted until it looked understandingly into his, "She changed the script a lot, huh?"

Keima cocked his head to the side, a gesture she took to mean confirmation. "It's how her character is," he, nonchalant, explained, "It's my job to dangle the stick all the way through: she is supposed to be the one digging the road. If I were to force her to act in a certain way, she'd always subconsciously rebel against it, which was why I had to entrust her to do most of the things."

"But the thing with the Kappa and the other Goddesses?"

"She agreed it was a good idea," he stated, matter-of-factly. "If she disagreed with anything, I'd usually let herself talk her way into the best solution possible. That, though, she thought was a pretty good idea."

"Well, they're in the party outside, if you wanna talk to them."

He shook his head. There was a reason why he'd wanted to be rather clandestine with what he had been doing till now.

"I can't let Gensokyo know about me."

Komachi raised a brow, before she seemingly came to realize what he meant by those words. Chortling, she assured him, "Whoa, don't worry 'bout suddenly leaving Gensokyo and all your friends. I'm sure Yukari can be bribed-"

"That's not it, stupid."

A nerve popped.

"What did you call me…?"

Keima ignored her threat, and began to explain, "Think about it, if I were to be known all around Gensokyo, some Crow Tengu's going to start taking interest, maybe even begin documenting everything do."

Was he referring to the surprisingly absent Shameimaru, Komachi had no idea.

"How I'm doing so well right now is due to my 'element of surprise'. The first impression always does a romance good: if I lose that element; my conquest gets harder to complete quickly."

"Oh," she rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his worry, "Sure, if that works for you, I guess. Was that why you wore that mask to Lord Tenma's place?"

"Yup. To disguise myself."

Komachi snickered at the relatively short statement, before she sunk her teeth for another bite. This guy right here really was the best of the Runaway Spirit Squad, huh? He was obnoxious, though, but really, she should stop doing all these reflections about the guy. He had proven himself, this time, and she was rather excited of their next ventures together.

But then an issue crossed her mind, and, with her mouth still full, she had to ask, "Wait. The Spirit's not out yet."

Keima's proud smile crook into a frown. "Yeah. I was hoping that would've happened either after the meeting ended, or sometime when she returned to the Shrine, but that wasn't true…"

"Which means?"

He sighed. A hand laid itself on his waist.

"I'd have to kiss her…"

Komachi inhaled through clenched teeth.

"Oof…" she meditated to herself over the issue as he walked over to his charging PFP, pulling out the charger and stowing it into his yukata. She'd expected herself to be all hot and fretting over the issue, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She at least could see the pragmatism in all of it, which just meant that there was no use in submitting complaints. "So… when're you gonna do it?"

The shoji door opened. Komachi leapt into her hagoromo in surprise, but then laughed nervously when she realised that it had been Keima who exited.

God glanced back at her, one arm high, with hand on the wooden frame.

His other hand, on the… other hand, searched in his yukata, and from within his clothes it brought out the Noh mask he had used during the meeting just now. This one wasn't a creation of the hagoromo. Instead, it had been an old heirloom from the Moriya Shrine's past, and had been given to him for the express purpose of using it. He hadn't given it back, and his capture target had been too excited to even bother taking it.

It was a good thing, then, that he needed it right now.

"We're going to find out."

The chattering could only be described as 'loud'. Characters he'd seen and never seen before flocked and frolicked round the place, some tricksters behind the backs, others honest men and women sipping their cups and filling their mouths, and the entire event seemed awkwardly surreal, to the point where even his composure began to shudder from the weight of his unwanted presence. It didn't help that his Noh mask was also well-worn from the years, and now looked more monstrous than ever, but it was the only way he could disguise his face, right now. When he had, at last, reached the entrance to the Shrine building, he felt a hand tug at his yukata's hem, and looked down to see Suwako at attention.

"What is it?" asked Keima with an eyebrow raised. She didn't even glance back to show her consenting simper, instead her voice said it all.

"I don't know how you did it," the child-like God muttered, her voice rising from beneath the celebration, "But I'm grateful. Sanae is, too. Still…" She finally looked up, casting a hopeful glint towards him. "The spirit's still inside her. Are you going to let me exorcise it, or something?"

He shook his head.

"No, I'll do it. You don't have to trouble yourself."

She grinned in response and then turned her attention back to the crowd. His eyes trailed with hers, and from their spot they could see Sanae, hands full with a pot of curry, struggling in the midst of hungry children and a Ghost Princess. Both of them were, admittedly, amused as they chuckled in tandem at the sight, though with Suwako stopping first to take her sip of sake from her box.

"I did as you asked."

Came Keima, voice quiet, subtle, suppressed. Suwako looked up, and shrugged. So her predictions were true. "Kanako started disappearing?"

"Yeah. It was pretty close."

"And... well, judging by my senses, you've... 'donated' everything to her."

Katsuragi Keima, self-proclaimed God of Conquest, said nothing. Suwako noticed one limp hand, and looked down. His PFP weighed it down. His dead PFP. They might have saved one Goddess. They couldn't save the development of another.

"Bah, give it a few weeks. It'll slowly accumulate."

"I don't want it to accumulate! Too much trouble..."

"And I'm guessing you don't wanna play that thingamajig on your hand?" taunted Suwako, much to the ire of the gamer.

"I have ideas, okay!?" he shot back. Suwako could only roll her and Pyonta's eyes.

When she had her fill, she asked wryly, "Where's the Shinigami of yours?" Said Shinigami answered with a tap on Suwako's back. The Goddess, rather than jump, scoffed and wondered why she'd forgotten that she was invisible- what part of her arsenal demanded that? "You've had your fill?"

Keima kept quiet. The question wasn't meant for him. Suwako instinctively leaned to the side, and an obedient, though rather jocose 'yes, ma'am' entered her ears. She nodded, relieved.

Silence came in once more between the three. The stars were twinkling, the winds of Soko were gentle; Gensokyo at night never seemed so lively. Keima's eyes spotted Momiji frantically serving tankards of sake in the corner of his vision.

 _"I-I did everything you asked! I got the White Wolves to escort you, a-and I did my part in escorting the Kappa and Goddesses!"_

 _"Good."_

 _Headpat. Headpat._

 _"S-so will you j-join the Inubashiri bloodline, t-then?"_

 _"Stop asking. You already know we both don't have an ending together."_

 _"Okay…"_

 _Headpat. Headpat. Headpat._

 _Headptheadpatheadpatheadpatheadpat-_

 _"You stop it."_

 _"Sorry…"_

White Wolf Tengu fur…

Keima glanced down at his hands, the wrinkles casting shadows deeper than canyons.

These shogi-fatigued hands really needed the fluff.

From one of the gatherings of Tengu beneath the brown evergreen trees, he spotted Hatate sharing some drinks with some background NPC-level crowd.

 _"I'm still skeptical of who you are…"_

 _"Let me guess: you don't think I am a God?"_

 _"No, not really… But I can't thank you enough. Now the Tengu and the Moriya have lightened up, and things are going to start changing… So how's your time in Gensokyo been?"_

 _"Now you think I'm an Outsider?"_

 _"Was my guess wrong?"_

 _"No. You're correct."_

 _"See, I told you. Now answer the question. Your interview's in session."_

 _"No comment."_

Keima sighed to himself. She had been keeping that side of her hidden for some time, and very well, too. Good thing he hadn't allied himself with the other Crow Tengu. If she really had been some amalgam, some fan-canon chimera of epic proportions, he might as well be a renowned superstar right this instance in the Eastern Wonderland, with a dotting Tengu that could not comprehend privacy being dragged around after wrapping a creepy hug round his legs. The thought sent him grumbling, but at least she wasn't here, right now.

But then he was saved by the little girl Goddess, who, having been patiently absorbing the sight of her Shrine filled to the brim, noticed a commotion emerge from beneath the steps. She hopped up to her two feet, the quick movement snapping Keima out of his harrowing trepidation, and quickly rushed forward, whatever it was that was happening exciting her to an immense degree. Keima, unable to react, just watched.

"Ooh," Komachi cooed beside him, "Can it be?"

"Can it be… what?"

Someone spat out all their sake.

"Izzat-?!"

"BIG NEWS!"

"I never…"

From all around the Shrine grounds, the people rushed forward. There was gasping, there was pushing and pulling, and there was unfettered wonderment as the commotion grew into a crowd. Keima couldn't fathom what was so intriguing, until the Tengu bowed.

Every single Tengu dropped to the floor for the entrance of the Lord.

Keima's mouth fell lower than his mask could hide. Komachi scoffed and quickly rubbed her eyes to make sure whatever she was seeing was real.

Joining both a palm and fist together, Lord Tenma bowed as the Myriad God Suwako jumped above the wall of bodies and floated down from the air to greet the surprise entrance.

Unlike herself, she stammered at the sight. A drop of sweat trickled down her face.

"Uh…" she scratched her nervous cheek, "It's an honor, Kero, but… why're you wearing a mask, Mister 'Lord of the Tengu'?" She peeked past her shoulders to see Kanako's 'husband' and, when she was sure his eyes had met hers, shot a sardonic cock of the brow through the gaps of the crowd to him. His flattened affect looked rather hilarious, in hindsight.

"Hmm, hmm, Lady Moriya," the masked Tengu Lord harrumphed jokingly to her as she turned back around, holding his esteemed pipe up to his chin in some attempt to seem cunning, "Might not want to ruin the surprise. In any case, I'm here to make merry with the Gods of the Shrine, without the pestering of my retainers."

"Sure…" she drawled through puckered lips, her eyes squinting with disbelief at the odd choice, "But Kanako'll have to wait. She's… drunk a bit too much, see."

Lord Tenma guffawed at the admission, his loud voice spooking some of the audience with its powerful volume. "Am I that late to this shindig?!" he asked as the laughter settled.

"Well…"

Suwako peeked past her shoulders once again.

Katsuragi Keima wasn't at the entrance anymore.

A cheeky grin popped out of her face. She turned back to Tenma, and, ceremoniously, and with the energy of a truly happy little God, clapped both hands together.

"Well, come, come~! We still have five barrels, if you're willing to fight the Oni for it!"

O - O - O - O


	25. The Trodden Path to Young Love

Kanako found herself staring at the moon.

It felt so… surreal.

Her languid form on the shores of the Wind Gods' lake felt no desire to move, and yet the sight of her great body of water capturing the Moon beneath its onbashira made her want to dance on its very glistening surface. Yasaka Kanako had not felt the sweet nectar of victory fill her stomach in so many years. So long, in fact, that a part of her could not comprehend the reality it resided in, and kept on considering it a dream, some fiction beyond her capacity of recognition; like it were just that: a dream.

It was done. She had won back her Shrine. After so many days of practice and preparation, it had finally paid off, and she could not be any happier of the results. It was an honest-to-Providence miracle. And now she had made a true ally in the Tengu; the ones with the power to end them was finally in her side, and she could feel the faith overflowing within her. 'Languid' was what she would describe herself right now, but any moment now, at any point if someone stuck some stimulus into her she might as well rocket forth into the middle of the lake to do her promised dance. She felt so powerful, so ascended that she giggled almost madly to herself every now and again. She was positive that this was the peak of her world.

But that didn't mean nothing else would come. She still had duties to do in the future, such as more feasts, more negotiations between the Tengu, moderation with the Kappa and Tengu over the boundaries and rules of their future plans, and that 'educational program'. She was sure there was a better name for it, but as long as it enticed Lord Tenma, then she was fine with the terminology they were throwing around. Ooh, to be considered the ones who'd finally convinced the leader of the Tengu to show himself to Gensokyo rather than stay behind some curtain was sure to net her more followers and prestige all around, and she couldn't wait for the gains. It would be worth it, she assured herself. It would all be worth it.

A rustle in the thickets attracted her drowsy attention, but she didn't bother to look back. She knew it was him- it was like a sixth sense, at this point.

After a swig of her sake gourd, she placed it next to his seat on the fallen log, and murmured softly, a smile on her face, "I didn't see you in the party."

Katsuragi Keima, seated quietly beside her, cleared his throat before he gave the Goddess his answer, "I… needed a bit of rest, that's all."

She giggled, before she let the silence set in and calm the mood between them. The lake lapped at the coast. There was a scent of Autumn leaves in the breeze. It was chilly. The last one made her uncomfortable, but what could she do? Maybe huddle herself? That would only do so little.

Kanako glanced at the man beside her, and noticed that he was staring at what she herself had been staring at, all this time, but in his eyes, there was a strange disconnect, as if what laid beyond him seemed so far away; much too unlike her. Keima had come here a strange, eccentric man, but now he was more than that. The experience must have done a number on him, she thought humorously to herself before she turned away.

Two people, sitting side-by-side in a moonlit lakeside-

She caught her cheeks warming, and quickly shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Unfortunately, she'd done it a bit too wildly, and involuntarily attracted her partner's attention.

"Whoa, are you okay, Lady Kanako?!"

A part of her wanted to chuckle at his inquiry. She supposed he was still the man she first met, at heart. "No, no," she shook her head, "I'm just… tired." Her hand hovered down and grasped at her bottle. "Like you, I suppose."

She took a sip, and a smile curled upward on her face. She hoped he didn't notice the drunken curve. Tengu alcohol tasted really good.

"You want some?"

"Nah. Not interested."

Again, a giggle escaped her lungs, and she quickly hid back in the quietness between them. The week seemed so blurry, right now. Seven days, she'd housed him under the roof of her Shrine, thinking at first that he was some lost soul come too far into her legends for his own good, and now trapped in the strange world that was Gensokyo, but…Who was she trying to kid here? The man beside her had a way with words, very alluring and such. The first time she noticed him, she'd thought nothing. This was some intruder who couldn't bear to see the broken Goddess rest and recuperate, some little pest hoping to stir up her troubles and, if her imagination my be allowed to hyperbolize, keep her weak. He was an anomaly, and yet this strange being followed her, and brought her up from the brink of failure. A savior of the Moriya Shrine. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought.

He saved her. He made it his goal to help her with the Tengu. He…

Her body flinched. His touch, he felt it on her right hand.

"I forgot: I came here to change your bandages, too."

Her face found itself in the deepest shade of pink. How fortunate, then, that it was night and he couldn't notice, but even with the lack of color, she could not help but cover her face with an arm as he went on with his work. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and she couldn't understand why. She'd never felt this coy around him before, so why now?

It didn't take long, though, for a millennia-old Goddess to realize why.

Kanako puckered her lips, the regret making her faint in the head. The conclusion seemed so ironic that she couldn't even understand why she'd come to think so. Was she that delirious from her victory? Was she that senile that her fantasies had come to control her weakened state?

No.

She wasn't delirious.

She wasn't senile.

She was right.

"Katsuragi… Keima."

Her hushed form called to him. He, having unwrapped the bandages and blessed her freed palm with his thumb and backside of her hand with his imprints, looked up to her.

"Yeah?"

His glasses gleamed with a celestial shine.

"Remember the first day you were here? When you made the mistake of proposing to me?"

"Ah," he shied his gaze away, "Y-yeah, I… I did. It was…" As quickly as he'd turned away, he went to looking her back in the eyes, this time with the characteristic wonder he had glazed on the first day.

"Awkward…"

His words fluttered in the air. Seconds of silence passed by the staring pair.

Kanako pulled her hand away. He lurched back, as if afraid, but of what? Was he thinking that she was going to slap him? No, no, no. Instead, she stood up, and almost swam through air to bring herself to the edge of the lake.

Turning, she faced him, and, in the night, for the first time, she sang to one man, and one man alone.

Her throat bellowed their song, the trumpet of her heart causing trembles to appear in the waves, and in the moment of her symphony she could not stop. The anxiety of what she was doing faded, and she closed her eyes, every bodily sense in her disappearing. Like the free-flow of air, she let her body dance to its own volition. It was like a trance, and the final piece in inducing it was him. His dazzled gaze on her invigorated her, made her notes high and mighty, beating fast and energetic. It was like a new song, one of the most joyful of triumphs, where entire cities would come and celebrate with its singer, the skies would be filled with coiling dragons, the air burning with glittering gold dust, and the streets filled to its brim.

In the backdrop of a rising lake, Yasaka Kanako was young again.

A young woman's charm. 

A young woman's energy.

A young love.

The great pillars of water laid themselves to rest, and Kanako, whose body slowed and regained the control from its brain, breathed deep and slowly. Her performance was complete, and the sight of a clapping Keima made her blush rapturous in the light.

"That was beautiful, Lady Yasaka!" he stated, "Now let me change your bandages, please?"

"I'll kill you..."

She cringed at his denseness, him seemingly letting her song fly by his head, and her frustration caused her to flash the telling glare of a snake's slit eyes. But she couldn't go and scold the man, and the serpentine motif quickly melded away. His dedication was of another kind. As he approached her, though, she thought of a way to make him think on the same wavelength as her.

"So…" she began the moment Keima held her hand once more, "I want to ask you something?"

"Yeah?" Keima nonchalantly uttered as he readied the binds, but before he could continue, her other hand caught his arm. He looked to her for answers.

Youkai Mountain blew its sigh over them.

Even in the night, she could see his vibrant face.

"Do you…"

The Goddess shone brightly beneath the moon.

"Want to share our faiths, 'God of Games'?"

He blinked twice. Then his mouth moved, and from it he enunciated:

"I... thought we already did that?"She chuckled. That was the past her. This was the present, and in this present, she had ample reason to think differently than her.

Kanako leaned forward.

The snake stared down at the young rooster.

"And I'm just making it official…"

And then she kissed him.

 **O - O - O - O**

Moriya Suwako, having tailed Keima to the lake to set her eyes on such an occasion, screeched inwardly with excitement from behind her hiding spot, totally sold on teasing her fellow Goddess with this kissy-kissy act for centuries.

Kochiya Sanae, having tailed Suwako, who was tailing Keima, to see what she was doing, screeched **outwardly** with a horror reserved for Eldritch abominations. She promptly fainted.

Onozuka Komachi rushed out into action.

The holy matrimony lit up. The Runaway Spirit, finally squeezed out of her heart, shot out into the air, its massive gait shocking the Shinigami and Myriad God. But, as if driven by a purpose, they lunged from their spots, and engaged.

How fitting that fireworks would be released to celebrate the two. And in the light, one should be able to see: Kanako held no more wounds on her knuckle.

 **O - O - O - O**

Moriya was positively, and quite literally, bouncing as she hopped excitedly through the Shrine's back entrance, an unconscious Sanae on her shoulder, and the smiling, yet also unconscious Kanako on some strange, snake-like entity shrouded in mist that she insisted on calling the Mishaguji, along with a rather flat Keima and an invisible Komachi in tow. A little bottle rolled around on the Shinigami's hand, her prisoner of war, beaten by stone and earth, steel and the butt of the thing that held said steel- and maybe her own actual butt, as well, seeing how she slipped at one point, but that wasn't the point of anything! The frog-like Goddess had been toying with her buddy to no end ever since she had explained their situation, and everything in the middle to her. She had come to understand what the pair was doing in Gensokyo, and, in an act of good favor, allowed herself to keep her mouth shut of the issue, especially to the other God, but now she was just being sadistic in her playfulness to the boy, and he was starting to come apart. Komachi wanted to ask her to stop, but, knowing how powerful she had been, and still was, she opted to pull her stakes out of the Human and the God's little debacle; at worst, she'd be carrying the Shrine Maiden's body for her.

"Ooh, look at that boy, that little, little Human boy~" Suwako teased, avoiding the ire-lasers coming out of said target of her mocking, "The baba wants to marry him~ Went to kiss him~ Later wants be in bed with him~ Uu~huhuhuhu~"

"Stop it," Keima groaned, the sharpest leer on his face, "I will take that hat away from you if you don't stop…"

"Huhuhuhu~ How'd that tongue feel like, huh? Huh~?"

He immediately shot his arm out to his side and flailed it around. No, it wasn't a seizure: he'd heard the invisible Komachi giggle, and hoped, prayed to the Gods, that he was blessed enough to hit her. Come on, it wasn't in her job description~ She could laugh at her co-worker's suffering anytime of the day.

"Okay, then, that hat is mine-"

Pyonta's googly marbles twisted. It stared back.

Whoa… That looked morbid, to be honest…

Keima, rightfully, stepped away in the face of Suwako's laughter.

"Can't get this hat away from me, Human~ Try it again, and I promise you the Mishaguji won't take you kindly-"

He swiped it off her head, anyway.

Suwako stopped in her tracks, unable to process why her hair felt so much like Kanako's: bouncier, less… weighty.

Her eyes widened.

Keima's malice manifested in his grin. Komachi gave a nonchalant blink.

"Whoa…" the Shinigami muttered, impressed. Her hand instinctively shook the detention jar on her hand, which made a very nice knocking sound. "Never seen anyone do-"

The hat's bottom suddenly extended, and it chomped on to his head.

Komachi fishlipped. Her hand grabbed more tightly on her scythe as she held it defensively close.

"WHEN WAS THIS HAT CANONICALLY ALIVE?!?!"

"WHAT'D YOU THINK IT WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU WHEN IT STARED BACK! NOW GIMME BACK PYONTA, KERO!!" Sanae's head smacked on the floor. The misty form of the Mishaguji seemingly had a sweatdrop experience as it crept back to Kanako's room, purposefully unaware of the debacle right behind it. She didn't know how the stars aligned themselves for her to be able to do it, but Komachi found herself spending the next few minutes pulling a sentient hat out of the most game-centric womanizer in the world, in the audience of a very angry little girl.

 _The things I do for my job…_

 **O - O - O - O**

Katsuragi Keima and her companion Onozuka Komachi left the way they had tried to come through: the Moriya Ropeway.

It was a sight to behold, he honestly thought, as he set his eyes on the strange box suspended in the air for the first time, its incessant swaying looking more like the lumbering of a heavyset creature. The thick rope, as its name would have noted for one's convenience, looked old, having been battered by the seasons the weather for so long that even Komachi opted that they just flew down. But he'd wanted a scenic route. This, right here, was a thematic centerpiece to his epilogue, and he wouldn't end his stay in the Moriya Shrine any other way.

As they descended, with the waving Moriya Suwako shrinking from their distances lengthening and the early morning sun greeting its first Ropeway riders for the month, Keima found himself descending into a meditation staring at where the Shrine would be, a state the Shinigami knew all too well by this point; so, she took a short nap to pass the time.

 _Even now, a part of me can't really believe the things I'm doing._

 _Kanako isn't stupid. She won't ruin this chance by herself. If it all works out, she'll change the entire mountain for the better. She's an ambitious character, and, now, that part of her has to shine: she might not be the best schemer, but ambition makes you try new things, makes you push for their implementation, and that's a crucial part in this entire Moriya-Tengu transaction._

 _I just hope my efforts meant something._

His hand slithered into his yukata, and, after some searching, he pulled out his PFP, dead. Not there, anymore. Sighing, he decided to hum some game music.

But it didn't feel like the right music.

Keima shifted gears.

Kanako's singing still lingered in his mind. It wasn't something he himself held much value in, more so the fact that he'd heard it once before. No, he did not hear it the first time when he and Komachi first arrived: it vaguely resembled her theme.

What did that mean…?

He shook his head. That wasn't the point, right now. There were other pressing issues, and he had to ask himself about them.

The Fallen God sighed for his encumbered brain.

 _I'm surprised…_

He slumped down to the ground, and started tapping at the buttons.

 _Shiki Eiki's capture did very little in terms of affecting the status quo of Gensokyo. Heck, Higan's basically outside Gensokyo, so it might as well not even count. So, then… Why did the first 'official' capture change so much?_

 _It couldn't be that Yukari planned for all this, right? For some stranger of the Outside World to suddenly come in and meddle with the entire system, changing the balances of Gensokyo in such a way that it's fundamentally to against everything it stood for. But if she really planned it that way, why? What was the point? To cause some sort of chaos in the long run? To change it for the better? For the worse? That damn Gap Hag is so hard to understand!_

 _And another question: how does a God get a gap in her heart? And how does a Runaway Spirit just as easily get in to it as any normal heart? Maybe I should have asked this question when I was capturing Eiki…_

 _It was strong, though… Must have been a Weiss, at this point, but what do I know, or remember? It's been a year since I've seen one. Still, to think that there are Runaway Spirits strong enough to just squeeze into a God's heart. Sure, she was weakened, but that doesn't mean that she's immediately powerless. It's just… disturbing. Do Runaway Spirits just get a powerup when they're within the Hakurei Border? That'd be a pretty stupid piece of narrative convenience, if that's true…_

Though, it would make sense for Yukari to choose me, then…

Gah! I didn't even want to do this in the first place! Chihiro must be missing me, right now, and knowing her…!

Keima's expression crumpled. His grip on the PFP shook. You could, on one hand, count the number of times genuine sadness flashed on his face. Now add one finger.

What was she doing, right now? Did she even know where he had gone? If Yukari would allow it, he'd send a letter to ensure that she knew. Heh, the jokes she'd throw at him about visiting some fantasy land from his games would never end. Ooh, why didn't you stay if you love your games so much? Might as well move there, right? Remembering that bit of sass within her made him miss her so much more.

And it made him realize how important Kanako's personality was to this entire operation.

Ambition makes the weak strive, and the strong fight. The Goddess was on her own path to success, now, and his interactions with her had made him realize that he needed ambition, or else he would fall behind, and he could not afford the stumbling.

 _I need to get back home.And to do that, I have to quicken the…_

No, that wasn't possible. He'd already tried that with Kanako, and… But in her case, the situation made it impossible!

 _Ugh, why doesn't speedrunning work in real life!? May the Gods be-_

He sighed. Suwako was too cute to damn… An admittedly stupid reason, but then again, the cute God of the Earth did agree to keep herself hushed, and she did put in some work on the Runaway Spirit, almost more than what Komachi had done throughout the struggle. Ignoring her temper, he supposed he did owe her his thanks, and besides, it was pretty stupid for him to think such an aspect as 'speedrunning' worked at all, knowing how the options to skip dialogue didn't exist at all.

A lone part of him also found itself scared of the possibility that the Mishaguji could read minds.

They… weren't around, were they?

Then again, how did the Ropeway move again?

…

Keima peeked out the side to be sure. Sure enough, nothing was there. He slid back into his spot.

In any case, he hoped Yukari had some sense of responsibility in keeping the Outside World calm about his mysterious spiriting-away. He couldn't bring himself to trust her in many things, but he hoped, wished with such endurance, that she had a heart to understand his inner plight.

Keima sighed once again, the tension in his own heart finding no comfort in monologue he could muster from his mind. In the end, his PFP gave him the most comfort. He decided to push his plan for his future endeavors to later, because right now, he had affection to make.

The Ropeway cart continued its silent descent above the treeline, and below the undirtied sky.

Komachi snored the morning awake.

A little speck of frost touched the Autumn leaves.


	26. What Powers through the Job

No one has ever truly seen the falling Cherry Blossoms and come to smile at them, for in Muenzuka, one does not find joy in the weeping. It is a strange place in Gensokyo, where the sakura partake in the colors of a purplish origin and the ground is paved in their tears so bereaved that strange flowers, likened to monstrous red organs stretching their beckoning arms into the air, grow throughout the seasons, and yet it is in great humor for the Gods of this land that the everlasting poisons in the air kill not the soul, but the insidious disease of doubt, for the deceased roam these parts, and upon sniffing the scent of the field, they come to look inwardly upon their selves and liberate the hesitation for the coming of the Sanzu. Sometimes, though, those who walk these paths are the living: rarely an Outsider; sometimes a Youkai; or perhaps a hum of a still-beating electronic from without. All who watch Muenzuka from the safety of the distance do not smile, for the falling blossoms they see are Muenzuka's never-ending grief.

Those stories never really bothered Nazrin.

Sitting near Muenzuka's only stream, the mouse Youkai waited with her dowsing rods extended near the petal-dotted water. A short stalk of grain hung on her lips like a cigarette, and every so incessantly often, she would chew on it, consuming one slight piece in the process, and before long it would disappear, forcing her to replace it with one from the small stack of grain stalks right beside her. The late morning had been calm, and nothing had floated by to confirm her suspicions of the stream's capacity to carry.

She didn't mind the quietness of today, where, unlike her, most of the Youkai and Spirits would hide from the impending Eve of Winter. In fact, she preferred these moments of solitude from her hectic life. Rushing to and fro from Muenzuka to the Myouren Temple, whilst battling the rude Youkai on the way, tired the servant of Bishamonten, so any moment of respite was one she would cherish for a short while before something inevitably came up to disrupt the peace. No, she wasn't cursing herself with that statement: something **always** came up, as is Gensokyo traditions, and she wasn't hopeful for its eventuality.

The grain pods popped in her mouth, and, taking it as a signal, she placed down one of her rods to pick up a new stalk for her chewing pleasure. For the past few days now, she'd been looking for a ship-in-a-bottle. It had been by sheer luck one day that her mice found one hidden in the pebbles around the stream's shore, and, baffled by its construction, she'd sent it to her allies at Myouren Temple so that they could make sense of it. Regrettably, her master Shou repurposed it as a gift for you-know-who, and she wasn't all too pleased.

Rather than give up on learning anything about the ornament, though, she instead channeled all her time on trying to uncover another one of them from the same stream where her mice had come upon the first one. Throughout these few days of her waiting for one to float by, her mice were scurrying around the place, looking for her prize. No, she wasn't stupid: she knew how her dowsing, and the pendulum hung round her neck, worked. She had a clear image of the bottle and its little Inchling's boat, but for the life of her she could not pick up any trace of another copy round Muenzuka. Suspecting that each ship-in-a-bottle was different, she instead opted to just search around the stream herself for it, and, when she came back empty-handed, further decided to just sit down and wait at said stream for one to stumble on by. It was a boat in an empty bottle; she was going to put the pieces together sooner or later.

Still, she and her mice had no luck in the endeavor. Sure, she found some strange floating plastic bags that she dared not open- some of them smelled horrid- and a few other miscellaneous Outside world trinkets that she'd seen many times before, but none of them were the ship-in-a-bottle! She was so frustrated yesterday that, when some rando Tengu flew by screaming gingerly things at her, she shot him- or was it her, she didn't know- with Danmaku.

Today, though? Oh, today she was different. She was the proud servant of Bishamonten, for crying out loud; she couldn't just blow up like that! That would be so embarrassing to his name to have a servant who couldn't control even a simple tantrum! And so, once more, she waited, this time with renewed patience, by the stream, hoping to pick up at least a faint trace somewhere along the lines.

Another pop. She'd gone through another stalk, and once again she reached out. This time, though, she touched Muenzuka's floor, and casually brushed aside the fallen drops, under the assumption that more of her snack food had been buried under. Her brow furrowed when she came back empty-handed.

She was out of grain. Nazrin sighed, disappointed. She now had to either leave her place to restock at her little hut five minutes away, or keep herself planted here until she couldn't bear the boredom any longer. Both choices seemed rather unappealing, if she were to be honest: either she miss out the chance to see a ship-in-a-bottle float by, or she gained full-body paralysis for moving not an inch of herself throughout the day. Yes, she did promise herself that she'd be patient, but patience does not counter sheer boredom. It would've been so easy to use the mice under her command to do so, but that was impossible. They didn't have the sense of pride or patience she held, meaning they'd just up and eat her stores of food when she wasn't looking.

"Ah…" A thought struck her at that very moment of contemplation. Quickly, she stood up from her spot, turned around, and yelled to the forest, "Mice! Assemble!"

From the bushes, the crevices between the roots, and the branches above her head, little balls of fur gushed out, scurrying on, below, and through the fallen cherry blossoms. A little marching bands worth of rodents stopped in front of Nazrin, all in attention, ready to do her bidding, and she smiled at their diligence. Pointing one rod at the stream, she explained to them their duty, "Patrol this stream till I get back. Remember: ship-in-a-bottle!" At the second sentence, she smacked both rods together for added emphasis, garnering a loyal 'chuu~' from her little soldiers, and with fleet of foot they did as they were told, spreading out to scout the area. Watching them leave made her lips bend upward. She would never get used to the little army's tenacity in carrying out anything she said. That was, of course, except for food delivery, but that was another matter, entirely.

In any case, with that out of the way, she began her trek back to her Muenzuka dwelling. Oh, everything was so much easier when her mice were around. Her leisurely steps kicked up the petals as she went, and she began to hum a short tune to herself, merry to the point where she'd pushed aside her gripes.

A branch snapped in the distance.

 ** _WHOA WHAT!? WHAT WAS THAT!? I WASN'T PREPARED! MY HEART'S RACING, I'M SCARED, AND-!_**

The mouse Youkai screamed at the top of her mind's lungs as she clammed up behind a nearby cherry blossom. Scared out of her wits, her instincts had inexplicably taken hold on her, and…

…

...

She cupped her face.

 _Shameful display…_

Lord Bishamonten was going to be so disappointed at his little Commander's incompetence. But come on, what'd you expect from a Mouse Youkai? They aren't supposed to take things head-on. Only Insect Youkai are anywhere lower in the food chain, and besides, she was only strong due to her allegiance with the God, not the other way around, and she'd survived this long in Gensokyo because of Danmaku. Not that she was lousy at it, but if someone threw her at some of the stronger Youkai, then she stood no chance.

A mice never plays with predatorial possibilities: that's what every rodent is taught by their parents, and it's a mindset that at least worked when she was ACTUALLY a mice, but now, with a more humanoid body and such, it was just embarrassing; embarrassing, she'd tell you! She'd done it with the Shrine Maidens and that Witch before, too, and that didn't work out at all; heck, she had to wait till they were at Makai AND she had the pagoda equipped before she got her bearings back and actually put up any semblance of a fight! She was just- just-!

She stopped. Inhaling, she waited till she could hold the breath no longer, and sighed.

A part inside Nazrin just wanted to berate herself some more, but she did not yield. Instead, she urged herself to look at the positives: now that she was out of sight, she could take her time scouting out the area with her now wary, attentive senses, and perhaps spot the stranger. Yes, that would work! Let her mistakes be the path to success!

She peeked out from behind the tree, and at first spotted nothing out of the ordinary. The thickets were rather lush in these parts, much to her chagrin. She couldn't see far out, but when she considered venturing forth with brave pep in her step, one of the bushes in her view rustled, and out came a suspicious individual in a cloak. There was nothing interesting to report, she noted, other than her strangely reaper-like attire. Was this lost-looking person (as noted by her coy shaking of the head) a Shinigami? Why was she so far from the Sanzu or at least the Road of Liminality? What errand must she be here for? So many questions, and yet no way to answer them.

She spied, clandestinely, as the terrified-looking individual sprinted away to whatever destination she wanted to go to. Nazrin, now much calmer, didn't mind: wherever it was, it was at least nowhere in the direction of most of her favorite spots, OR her hut, for that matter, and, judging by the fidgeting, she guessed that that Shinigami-like individual was just lost and was, honestly, nothing to be bothered by. She stood up, crept into the path she'd been on just before, and, when nothing came her way, decided to keep on going.

Heh, now that she thought about it, why was she getting all worked up about, then? Silly little Nazrin, getting all scared of some girl who's lost in Muenzuka…

Huh… Maybe she should've helped…

"Nah," Nazrin shook her head with the renewed confidence of an eagle being asked if he could fly… Well, translate its nod to her head shake, then it'd make sense, "The proud servant of Lord Bishamonten has other things to do than help some lost soul!"

She strode along, head held high, ears in attention and march bold and long-reaching. Surely, she'd assessed her situation to the best of her efforts, and her masters would be proud of her conduct; but she couldn't forget why she was walking in the first place: to get more grain stalks to munch on. No, wait, was it 'chew' on? 'Nibble'? Oh, she'll decide on it and the connotations they bring later.

Nazrin beamed: the walls of her hut were just appearing in her pink and purple-laden vision. The little mound of Outside World objects right beside it was her pride and joy, her spoils of endless searching throughout the years, and-

It immediately came crashing down.

A man stood right in its wreckage, one essential pillar in hand.

Nazrin's smile cracked. Only a silhouette of cold sweat indicated where her spot was.

 ** _INVADERS! THEY'RE HERE TO KILL ME, TO SULLY THE NAME OF BISHAMONTEN! TO SPITE TORAMARU AND SPIT ON THE MOUSE YOUKAI NA-_**

...

Wow, this tree branch is really smooth…

Nazrin looked down and inwardly into herself. She bit her lower lips.

 _Why am I a running gag?_

"NO!" She shouted into the air, immediately assuming a hanging position from the tree branch she'd clambered upon and swinging herself with the tantrum fueling her muscles. "I WILL DRIVE YOU AWAY! FOR I AM NAZRIN, SWORN HELPER OF LORD BISHAMONTEN OF THE NORTH, AND I CALL UPON THEE TO LEAVE THINE PLACE OF DWELLING-!"

A scythe prodded her foot.

The silenced Nazrin looked down. She locked eyes with Onozuka.

"Oi," Komachi flashed a raised brow at the hanging fruit, "We've been waitin' for you, y'know that?"

"K-Komachi?"

 **O - O - O - O**

"So you're telling me…" Nazrin muttered to the Shinigami beside her, pausing to bat an eye at the totally inconspicuous blue-yukata-wearing bespectacled individual rummaging through her pile without so much as a question of permit, "He's a new recruit, and he's looking for something from the Outside World?"

"Yup," Komachi answered before catching her scythe from sliding down the walls of her hut, hoisting the stubborn weapon up her tired shoulders once again, "We tried Kourindou just now, but Morichika ain't ready to part with it, just yet."

The mouse Youkai shot a crossed pout at her, clearly peeved. "That doesn't mean you can come and steal something from me."

Komachi only whistled innocence into the wind.

Well, what did Nazrin expect from the infamously lazy Shinigami? Throughout the years of their rather scarce interactions- usually involving the two crossing paths, with the not-surprised one saying 'hi', and the other shocked as to why she'd even leave her post- and from the stories her mice had gathered of her during their info-stockpiling of everyone else in Gensokyo a few years back (she had to catch up with the new millennium), she had painted Komachi to be something of an irresponsible figure. Not to mention the Enma's remarks regarding her that she'd slip in during those lectures the little Commander so dearly be-loathed added fuel to that fire; so much so that, honestly, standing next to her right now was making her feel rather vexed. To think that she would take a recruit out to help him was a mild surprise, but it didn't detract from the fact that she really wanted this day to at least relax, and that it was not to be until these two intruders could prove to her that they were at least responsible enough to clean up her pile.

Her body tensed up slightly. Her tail, having entered her home through the door crack, had caught a small dole of straw, and quickly she pulled it out to examine whether or not it was what she came for. To her joy, it was the grain stalks, and to celebrate the attaining, she put one on her mouth.

"Hey," the Shinigami called for her attention. She turned, inevitably smacking the mice's cigar in her mouth on Komachi's hand. "Gimme one."

"Ah, s-sure," she murmured, before offering one to her.

"Y'know, a few months back," Komachi began, much to the confusion of the mouse Youkai.

"Yeah, what happened?"

"Your God visited Hell."

"EEEHHHHHHH!?"

"Said it was some centennial visit, or somethin'. Real chummy guy, y'know that?"

Nazrin wanted to explode.

"Did you ask him about me? Did you? DID YOU!?"

"Who're you?"

"OI! YOU KNOW WHO I AM!"

"Ah, just kidding, just kidding~ I did ask him about you. 'Hey, Lord Bishamonten, you remember some mouse of yours?'"

"And what did he say? What'd he say?"

"'AH!? There's a mouse here!? Kill it!'"

"Lord Bishamonten's not scared of me, and definitely not a mouse!"

"Just kidding, just kidding~"

"Stop joking around, Onozuka. I'll sic' my rats on you."

"Okay, okay. So I actually asked him this: 'Hey, Lord Bisha.'"

"You're giving him a nickname, now?"

"'You remember that mouse girl?' He looked at me, stroke his chin like this, and said… 'Who's she'?"

"OI! I TOLD YOU TO STOP LYING! SIC' HER, GUYS!"

Nothing happened…

"Tch, ahhh…" Komachi shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in disappointment, "Even your mice noticed I didn't use the punchline."

"EH!? YOU WEREN'T KIDDING!?"

"Did I say 'Just kidding, just kidding~'? No, right?"

"N-no."

"Come on, what're those ears for, huh?"

"I know, I know, I screwed up, there…"

"In any case, I didn't think you'd like to hear that, so I asked again: 'You know, your favorite mouse girl?'"

"Oh, now that should get him to remember!"

"'Ah, Minnie Mouse'!"

"THE DAMN MOUSE ON MY GRAND PRIX DEBUT SHIRT!?"

"Anyways, I thought that was a terrible thing to say to you-"

"Then don't say it!"

"So I asked him again, 'No, no, no, your helper. Y'know, the mouse girl who works under you?'"

"S-so what did he say?"

"He said, 'Oh, I think I remember now.'"

"Hah? Really!?"

"'The one who's tagged with that Youkai disciple of mine'?"

"Yes, YES, that's me!"

"'The one who'd like Gensokyo not to be too cramped'?"

"Yeah, I said that!"

"'Ah, yes, wasn't his name… Speedy Gonzales!'"

"WHO THE HELL IS THAAAAAAAAAAAT!? HOW DID YOU FORGET ME, LORD BISHAMONTEEEEEEEEN!!!"

"Ah, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Komachi pulled the crying Nazrin off the floor, "I haven't finished yet!"

"W-what's there to finish?! Lord Bishamonten doesn't even remember me! I'm such a fool for thinking I'm special! All this pride I've paraded throughout the years, I must have been so stupid! I'm going to retire, and drown myself in all those 'cheese whiz' jars I found last week in that box!"

"Ah, alcoholic…"

"I'm just going to live my life a shameful rat! I'm going to raid trash cans for all eternity, and live off trash till he remembers me!"

"No, no, no, don't be so sad. He did have something else to say, at the end."

"A-a-and what's that…?"

"Just kidding, just kidding~"

"I'LL KILL YOU! CUT IT OUT!"

"Thank you for listening, have a nice day~"

And so, the skit ended, leaving an amused Komachi and a begrudging Nazrin in its wake. Its only man in the audience, the stranger whose name the latter knew not of, was clapping. Nazrin was livid, totally shocked by the fact that she'd been played like a mouse between cat's paws. She wanted to smack her dowsing rods on the redhead's cranium to teach her a lesson!

But then her ears twitched. The anger within her almost vanished at the sound. She looked to the recruit, and finally realized just how earnest his clapping was. Someone had… enjoyed the impromptu routine? Well, that was… flattering, actually, a nice boost to her ego. Well… she supposed she might as well take it, for her own enjoyment…

"Heh… Heheh…" she slowly snickered, her hiccuping growing louder and louder. Rubbing her nose haughtily, she gave a well-undeserved bow to her beloved audience, and declared, "Thank you, thank you. I'm happy that you enjoyed it."

"Yeah, says the one with the 'Goddy Issues'-"

Nazrin promptly slammed westward into her stomach. Komachi spat the air of her lungs out, and promptly crumpled to the floor, saliva trailing down her dead lips. Ignoring the towering individual's fall from grace, she turned to her crowd, and once again gave a bow.

Then, much to her delight, the 'recruit' raised his hands for a question. She politely granted it with a flick of a hand, and listened attentively.

" _Are you coming to the Grand Prix this year?"_

" _Lord Bishamonten must be so proud of your performance~_ "

" _Say 'Yapooon~!' or 'Anakashiko~' for me!"_

No, wait, those questions were her imagination. Oh, get your head out of the mouse-hole, you~ Only a devoted fan would remember how great she was as the Boke in that Grand Prix. So… what's the question?

He offered a hand up, and Nazrin, curiously looking upon his raised limb, noted the little box perched on the palm.

"This is a power bank."

"Eh?"

A… power bank? Is that what this thing's called? What does that have anything to do with-

"They're usually very easy to identify due to their sockets and ports. Please, with your dowsing powers, can you find more for me?"

Ah…Nazrin couldn't believe her ears.

This guy was asking her to find something…

Oh…

How anticlimactic…

"Please, Nazrin, can you find more of them? Electricity in Gensokyo's hard to come by."

Well… she supposed being humbled by this newbie's enough to sate her ego. Didn't she have more of these in her pile? Pointing her dowsing rods at said pile, her eyes stung as her pendulum lit up, and her collar began to tighten as the stone levitated and pointed at where she was looking at. Immediately, as if understanding what her tools were doing, this spectacled man dived back into her belongings, and swam within until he pulled out another similar-looking 'power bank'. She couldn't really believe his desperation, though, and looked to the now crumpled Komachi for guidance. As expected, she gained nothing from it.

"Oh, thank you~" the 'recruit' cooed, extending a praying hand in thanks that elicited a blush from the grey mouse's cheek, "You cannot believe how much power I need for this entire mission. If you may, can you find more, please?"

Whoa, what's this? Someone practically **begging** for her help? She couldn't help but let loose a cocky snicker at this humbling soul, and so, without further ado, her ego popped out of its hole, and boy did she run with it.

"Oh, so you're relying on your dear elders~? Pfft, how funny you are, cos' let me tell you, I am a busy helper, so I might have to put your priorities in the red, because I've got other things to do; Lord Bishamonten's helper and all, it's no surprise. So sorry, little one, but you've got to-"

Something grasped her wrist. Cold, hard fingers tightened around her pulse.

Nazrin froze.Her eyes, the only organs still functioning, looked down.

 _Don't stare into the Abyss: it stares back._

The Fallen God snorted so loudly the grass would have snapped if it had human spines. The behemoth- in comparison to Nazrin's size- rose, and like an almighty tarp he leaned forward, becoming Hell's very hand curving its fingers down upon her.

"E-eh?" she stammered out, "W-what're you-"

And then _it_ spoke.

"Did you just laugh off the orders of a **SHINIGAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**!!!?!??!?!??!??!?!??!?!??!!??!??!?!?!??!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!??!?!?!??!"

" **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**!?"

Iron locks seized the sides of her head.

"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY!"

"IEYAAAAH!!"

"I'LL KILL YOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

"'ELDER' MY ASS! YOU OLD FARTS ALWAYS NEVER APPRECIATE THE STUFF THE OUTSIDE WORLD CREATES FOR CONVENIENCE! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO LIVE WITHOUT MY ELECTRICITY, HUH!? YOU THINK WE'RE SO READY TO GO BACK TO THE STONE AGES, HUUUUUUH!?"

"IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY!!!!"

"LET ME ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME- No, WAIT! THAT'S NOT ENOUGH, ISN'T IT!? I **ORDER** YOU TO FIND ME MORE POWER **BAAAAAAAANKS** , NOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!"

"OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYLETMEGOLETMEGO **INTHENAMEOFLORDBISHAMONTENLETMEGOOOOOOOOOO**!!!!"

"Heh, good."

And immediately, the demon disappeared.

Nazrin's teary eyes shrank.

"Gah, my throat hurts," Katsuragi Keima grunted as he adjusted his yukata's collar, "I haven't screamed that loud in a long time; I think I went a bit over the top there…"

Komachi, just now getting up on her knees, grumbled a soft, "That's a lot more than a bit, don't ya think…?" to him. Even her hands shook from the pain still shooting up from her stomach- this humongous strap round her stomach had been for nothing, huh? And she'd had the thing since Almage-Machina…

Nazrin just let the tears flow down her face.

"Well, then," he motioned a crack of the neck, although nothing came of it, "We've got two half-full ones. That'd at least last a few days if I play sparingly."

"O-okay… S-so, what now?" the Shinigami holding onto her scythe pole for dear life asked in response.God plugged his charger's USB. The little battery symbol on his PFP sang. His smile was that of a thousand yards, and its shine blinded Komachi the moment he turned towards her to declare his next step.

"Let's go buy some newspapers."

Nazrin curled up into a ball in the corner, and then cried the shame away.

 **O - O - O - O**

The mice army were ecstatic! They'd found it, and their squeaks told the world of their achievement! The ship-in-the-bottle had come! It'd come, and they'd hoisted it from the stream. All that was left to do was show their master their haul!

Where's she? Where's she? She'll give us all the grain in the world when she sees this-!

"Uuuu…" The weird grey thing sniffled, "Ugh… Ughhhh…"

…

…

 _What in Muenzuka happened?_

 _Did she stub her tail on something?_

 _Did she hit her nose on something?_

 _Did she get a stomach ache from something?_

One brave mouse squeaked a salute. She squeaked- no, screamed, back, scaring the army. Like the most terrified rabbit, she jumped high into the air, and scurried behind the corner. The mice squinted incredulously at the display.

"W-w-what'd y-you guys want?"

Looking at each other, one mice declared in hesitant victory.

"T-The ship-in-a-a-a-b-bottle? Y-you found it!?"

They nodded.

They did not realize that she now had to prioritize **his** orders.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

 _SQUEAK!?_

 **O - O - O - O**

"13 Stripes Brewing… Peggy Stewart…"

It was a beer can…

Well…

It… It did have a ship printed on it…

"Well, bottoms up, I guess. M-might as well, right?"


	27. What’s Left of God’s War

Kochiya Sanae had a splitting headache. Whether or not it was from the drinking yesterday, or some brawl she got involved in wasn't the problem; the problem was that everything from the past week seemed so blurry now, and the memory lapses were troubling her to no end.

Was she suffering from some illness that made such pulling of memories as early as yesterday a problem? That didn't make sense, though: everything before that was much clearer, less foggy and vague, and that just, she had to repeat herself, didn't make sense. It muddied the entire mystery of her missing memory. Gasp, could it be a Youkai toying with her memory!? No, impossible. The Mishaguji would have ate them by now. Was she getting old!? No, Kanako was still fine even at that age. Was she-?! No, that sounded stupid.

Sanae sighed grimly as she leaned onto her broomstick, despair piling on her tired shoulders. It was fortunate, then, that nothing truly important needed remembering, save for the inevitable anniversary of yesterday's momentous occasion with the Tengu conceding their threats to the Shrine, and the arrival of the elusive Lord Tenma himself, and though he'd come with a mask to hide his true identity, the news would no doubt travel far and wide throughout Gensokyo and bring the much-needed PR storm for the Moriya. That, at least, gave her something to be proud of. Yasaka Kanako, her Goddess and guardian for so many years, had done her own Miracle, one she herself could not cast, and she was ever thankful and congratulatory.

The thought put a smile on her face. It'd been a while since her smile actually came from so deep within her… Right? She didn't know. She felt like she had donned a rather similar thing just days before, but, as you all know, her memories were barring her from accurately ascertaining the veracity of that claim. Ooh, big words~ Sanae, are you becoming smarter or something~?

She was midway into her goofy self-indulging charade when the sound of shoes clapped onto the Shrine grounds. Unfocused, she turned her body towards the source, eyes closed with mellow lids, and muttered a welcome.

A familiarly grumpy voice, though, chided back.

"What are you doing, Kochiya?"

Sanae snapped awake.Her eyes wrenched the lips open. Red and white filled her view.

"R-REIMU!?"

"Oi," the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, in all her wayworn glory, groaned adversely at her screaming as she bottled a drink of calming silence into her ears with her finger, "Don't scream so loud. Besides, what're you so worked up about; it's just me visiting, right?"

"O-oh, sorry…" Sanae hung her head low in apology, and Reimu snorted in response. The Green-haired, second Shrine Maiden couldn't believe it. She had a point in her overreacting, but honestly, she hadn't visited since the last Incident, a-and she'd thought that, after yesterday's celebration, when she had become a no-show, she'd lost interest in ever coming to the Moriya Shrine ever again. Who would've thought she'd come **the next day** , past all the hubbub and the drinks and the merry and the marry and the- Something didn't sound right in that…

I-in any case, Hakurei Reimu was here! Her mind began to grow wild with ways to accommodate for her past absences. Maybe they had some leftover sake from yesterday? Some uneaten curry? No, someone shoved their head into the pot, and now it was full of hair. Oh, the mochi- no, the Rabbits ate them all before they left… Okay, let's just say that she had to prepare something new for the day, but anyway, now that she thought about it, why was she here? She decided to ask the question.

Reimu furrowed her brows and formulated her answer with relative quickness. "I thought you'd be moving out today…" she said, the contents amazing Sanae, "Thought I'd come by to see if someone's mad enough to make an Incident out of all this."

"Eheh…" Yeah, she had to give her that: Kanako would have been crazy enough to go all out like that. There've been a lot of other times when her Gods would go surprisingly all-out on places, and it didn't help that they were sometimes overprotective of their Shrine Maiden. Look around Gensokyo, you'll find some stray Onbashira lying around the most remote of locations.

In any case, Sanae found herself struck by emotions. She **cared** of the other Shrine, after all~!

"Whoa- Hey?!" Reimu exclaimed as her arms wrapped around her, the broom clacking, discarded to the floor and the worries of the past leaving through her tear ducts.

"You wouldn't believe it, Reimu!" Kochiya exclaimed through the fabric she'd buried herself into, "T-they were going to take the Shrine away, but Kanako pulled through a-and convinced them to actually welcome up as actual friends that actually do actual actual friend things!"

"Wow, Keine would cave your skull for butchering a sentence like that…"

Suddenly, the green Shrine Maiden tugged at her sleeves, and Reimu found herself being pulled away and deeper into Moriya Shrine grounds. Even when she protested, the words went from one ear out the next; Sanae just wanted to tell her the once-in-a-lifetime miracle that was the intact Shrine.

Moriya Suwako, having been lounging in the living room contemplating over that 'Katsuragi' fellow and playing with the vivaciously voracious methods he'd employed yesterday- she was crafting intricately humorous scenes in her mind for the comedic sake of it (what'd you think a bored God's going to do?)- shrieked terror from her throat when the shoji door leading outside, having been closed due to the ensuing cold, slammed **down** from her Shrine Maiden's overly-excited kick. In those terrible seconds before Sanae properly set her foot down, she'd had to brute force her own legs to **not** jump and stub the table and grab Pyonta so he wouldn't fly off and crash through the roof again. The Goddess hadn't even expected anyone to come today, other than an odd Crow Tengu or worshipper spread throughout the afternoon, but even if she did, she would never expect them to make her Shrine Maiden so excited that she'd kick the door to their own house down! Who was this person of such standing that he or she would make such ruckus indirectly? She just made a really tacky scenario with Keima in her head, too…

The sight of the Red-White Shrine Maiden, though, knocked her deep into confusion. Pushing herself up to her dignified stand, she cocked her head to the side and asked, voice weary, "Hakurei? What brings you here?"

She didn't answer. She was too stunned by the fallen door.

And then Kanako passed by.

"Hey, what in the world is that rack- MY SHRINE DOOR!?"

 **O - O - O - O**

Honestly, Kanako couldn't remember a **thing**. Suwako had made sure of that.

Promising Katsuragi Keima to act with the façade of ignorance, she had his room cleared out so nothing remained that would ever let anyone trace back to him, and every indent- every visible, tangible evidence that hinted at him ever being present here- around the Shrine disappeared, courtesy of an entire night of searching and the Mishaguji and her frogs helping stomp and dig the ground smooth. It was an arduous task for her helpers, but by the early morning, right before the two were scheduled to be set down the Mountain, she finished. Nothing looked out of place, save for the still-sleeping and hungover individuals dotting the Shrine.

The day was still young. Keima and Komachi's leave was but a few fleeting hours ago. Sanae woke up with a throbbing headache, and Kanako was none the wiser, blaming alcohol for her foggy head, of all things. Everything seemed perfectly normal, really. The Shrine was calm, once again, and her family looked to still be fine. Whether or not the memory wipe would stay, she, a God who'd been living on these lands for a thousand years, didn't know. All she could do now was wait for the inevitable: either life continues, or they remember. No way to predict, so might as well go with the flow of things.

 _"Suwako?"_

 _A turn of the head._

 _"Yeah? What is it, boy?"_

 _A deep, respecting leer._

 _"The story you told me about how you and Kanako became friends… I didn't believe how you characterized her, at first."_

 _A cocking head._

 _"And…? What's your point?"_

 _A sigh._

 _"You're going to have to share that experience with me and the Tengu."_

 _Moriya Suwako chortled into the night._

So **why** \- just **why** \- was she still subject to stupid interrogations? The Froggy Goddess had leisure on her schedule, and the fact that the Hakurei was sitting right beside her, staring at Kanako with confused suspicions was proof that all was going wrong with her day. Oh, and also the door. Ugh, the door. Least it was old and needed replacing someday; Sanae just took it out of its misery. But she would have appreciated the collateral murder some OTHER day.

Anyway, here they were, sitting around a nice table, with the green-haired airhead- she had to admit that accurately described her right now- serving them tea without a care in the world. A dribble of sweat cascaded down the side of Suwako's head as she casted a look of painful inner suppression at the other God of the Shrine, who looked peeved from the damages. If something were to happen with Reimu, and the entire memory wipe was to be reversed, then what would she do? She gingerly sipped her tea, and asked Reimu:

"S-so… what brings you here, Red-White?"

"I came here to say goodbye," she explained, before a smirk formed on her face and took aim at Kanako, "But I guess you had some stroke of luck?"

The God scoffed, proud and boastful. She leaned down to prop her casual gesturing on the table. "No, not luck, my dear. I had a bit of help."

Suwako's lips puckered.

'Had a bit of help'? No, it couldn't be- Wait, then why didn't she-? Huh? Could she remember? The thoughts swirled in her mind, and she felt too sick to judge.

"Right, Suwako?"

Kanako glanced at her. Her stomach shrunk back, and her garish, faux smile crinkled.

"Y-yeah… I guess, kero…"

"What's wrong with you?" she then asked her fellow God, careful in patting her shoulder, "You can't be that shy about telling the Hakurei that you helped, right?"

A brow risen on her face. Kanako, taking notice of the expression, snickered in amusement. That only served to confuse the Myriad God even further.

She had to be frank in her questions, here: did they erase Katsuragi off their collective memories, or _replace_ him with her? If so, then wouldn't that mean-

Before she could finish the thought, Reimu opined, "I haven't seen you two work together for a while, now. Still, it's not all sunshine for me:" She paused to sip in the calming beverage, "I've had more donations this week than ever, outside of festivals and holidays, all because the Ropeway was closed."

"Oh~" Kanako cooed, a foxy triumph in her face, "You're going to have a lot more to deal with, Hakurei. The Tengu and the Moriya are… keen on making the most out of our renewed arrangements."

"Tsk," Reimu gave a disapproving half-scowl, before an interesting thought popped into her mind. Turning to Sanae, she asked, nonplussed in tone and face, "Where were **you** during all this? It doesn't look like you did anything."

Sanae drooped in dejection. "They didn't allow me to do much…"

"That's because you're still young and brash, Sanae," the God in the red dress explained, a disconcerting nonchalance in her shrugging gesticulation, "I can't have you threatening Lord Tenma."

Hearing his name, Reimu quickly cut in with a forceful lean forward and a question: "Wait, I heard that he visited last night! No one's seen his face before, so what did it-"

"N-not to be the bearer of bad news," Suwako interrupted her, the question finally recovering her from the shock- she **was** the first one in the Shrine, save for the guests, who'd actually greeted him before sprinting away to see where the man and Kanako were. "But he wore a mask. So… no face."

Reimu, not surprisingly, sighed, disenchanted, and sat back down. "Come here, all the way from the settlement," she muttered grumpily to herself, before placing a hand to massage her taut neck, "And you're still too shy to show even a nose."

"I'll be sure to tell that to Lord Tenma."

"I'll shove that Onbashiro into you if you do."

When the room fell back to peace, and the two weren't staring in mock and rage- thank God, and by God Suwako subconsciously meant herself- the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, in the middle of taking her mind off the frustration by observing Sanae pour more sweet tea into her cup, muttered aloud, "I'm guessing the party was… _great_ , yesterday."

Kanako sniggered through her hands, clearly grinning ear to ear. She was, as clear as cloudless day, enjoying the self -poverty-bashing being in exhibit right in front of her, mand she, as Suwako would be correct in presuming, would have liked to prolong the suffering. "Oh, it was splendid. Tengu alcohol is a **must-try**. Pity you weren't there~"

"Cos' **somebody** didn't tell me until this **MORNING** …"

Suwako swore the muscles tightening on the Shrine Maiden's neck would have snapped even an Oni's own esophagus. Actually, scratch that, she was sure Suika was the culprit, and the one to appear in the obituary tomorrow. She grimaced at the thought; nothing looked as petrifying as the rage of the powerful Hakurei Shrine Maiden, Suwako had to admit, and the fact that Kanako was staring her down with the sheer confidence of brashness incarnate just made her want to ask if she was so consumed by pride so as to forget that Gensokyo had its own rules of common sense.

"Eh?" Sanae voiced, a strange thought seemingly occurring within her. "Lady Kanako, where were you during the later parts of the celebration?"

"Oh, I was at the lake, enjoying my tankard… no, wait, it was a gourd," she stopped midway to look at Suwako, "You came halfway, right?"Suwako, on the other side of the room, snapped a wide-eyed look.

 _No way she remembers **that** , right?_

"Y-yeah, that was me, heheh…" Okay, that was a terrible phony laugh, but for now as long as the other God had not the faintest memory of him, all was fine, and all would be fine for the future to come.

"Yes, yes, we talked a bit, didn't we…" Kanako grew silent, before she propped her chin on a knuckle and looked up to the roof, and-Pyonta let loose a drop of sweat.

H-hey… Uh… Why did Kanako turn as red as her dress? T-that's not how camouflage works…

Reimu furrowed her brows in confusion.

Sanae, the same.Suwako's plummeting smile nearly broke her jaw.

"Oh… Oh no," the blushing Goddess whimpered in a whisper, the lack of control making it so her laments could be heard by all in the room. Cupping her cheeks, she made herself look absolutely embarrassed, and Suwako's stomach wrung itself at the display. A glance from Kanako herself made her pupils scream. "We… we drank a bit too much, didn't we…?"

A sudden slam took Suwako's attention to the other side of the table. A horrified Sanae planted- no, more like hammered and nailed- her body on to the wall behind her. Every part of her quivered from the unseen, heart-wrenching image resurfacing from her head. Moriya almost **broke** at the implications.

"Y-you…!"

An accusatory finger shot forth unto Suwako. She'd never felt the flinch of true terror, before, but this…? Instant paling was not a good sign for frogs.

"A-and you!"

The finger cranked towards Kanako. She didn't respond, and instead folded herself deeper into her hands.

Reimu blinked, lost in the conversation.

"You…! The two of you-!"

"Just get to the point, Kochiya…"

The Myriad God looked deep into herself.

 _Katsuragi…_

A regretful tear slid down her face.

 _I'm going to personally kill you for this._ _This, I, as one of the many Myriad Gods, promise with the bottom of my heart._

Like the surprising hop of a once-stunned frog, Suwako stood up, and with all that her lungs had to offer, screamed:

"WE **KISSED**! AND I **LIKED IT**!"

Reimu downed her tea just to let herself spit it back out. All out on the floor.

Sanae crashed through the shoji-made wall.

Kanako screamed into her arms.

And Suwako wanted to _die_.

 ** _KATSURAGIIIIIIIIIII!!!!_**


	28. To The Next Step

_**Sorry for being off for so long. I was still updating it on my SpaceBattle forum, and during this time I had been updating the one with the mobile app, which was extremely troublesome since it cut off all the spacing, and screwed with the format sometimes. The website was banned in Malaysia, so I couldn't update the story through here. It came to a point where I almost gave up trying to use . Finally, I've come to realize that my University internet could actually bypass the ban in Malaysia. So... time to catch up, I guess.**_

* * *

When it comes to Nazrin, asking her to search for lost items comes down to whether or not you can negotiate with her. Coming to her bearing politeness and humble attitudes and trying to bribe her with kindness and gratitude would only add fuel to her burgeoning ego and make any convincing a hassle, especially since her nose had the capacity to stick higher than any Tengu: that approach would make no compromise. The other method, naturally, was to hold firm till the Mouse Youkai realized that she couldn't scale the wall that was one's self, and as he remembered it, that was the best strategy to do.

Unfortunate for her, then, that Keima felt like sparing no effort in this beautiful day, and, in the ensuing attempt, utterly obliterated her. What? Being firm in the negotiation still meant that she would request _something_ in return, and in a time like this, he couldn't slow down and procure- or worse, waste time to find- her desired object. So, like any diplomat, he just pointed a missile on her head.

Okay, said missile was an imaginary threat from a Shinigami, but that argument holds no bearings: it worked. As expected. Because of course it worked. He was the one who did it. And anything he did, he did with a precision of a dart thrower of the highest caliber, so **of course** it wouldn't backfire.

Besides, he had reason to employ such a brash strategy: he needed powerbanks. Most of Gensokyo looked too rural to even hint at an Industrial Revolution having swept its influences through the area, so his beloved PFP would have very much died not even a quarter of the way into the next capture, where and whenever that might be. It was but a miracle and stroke of luck, respectively, that he was able to contain his gaming habits throughout his stay in the Sanzu, and that the Moriya, upon gaining their beloved power back both literally and metaphorically, had working electrical sockets, but here, out in the wild, he had to think up unorthodox ways of gaining lifeforce for his PFP, and where better to find PFPs than the place where treasures from the Outside World pop into? Rinnosuke might be stockpiling his, but Nazrin had a lot more wriggle room for negotiations.

They were on their way to get newspapers. Komachi, courtesy of their rather stealthy approach to certain individuals, cloaked herself before Keima reentered Kourindou. Silly of them to not have swiped one before, but he supposed even God made mistakes.

He laid eyes on the newspaper rack… and he deadpanned.

"Oi…"

A shaky hand grabbed one issue.

"What… have you done, Lord Tenma…"

 _ **One Week Special One-Page Issue: Why the Moriya is Best! Day One**_

 _ **Collaboration between Lord Tenma and Yasaka Kanako.**_

The… the entire damn shelf was filled with them! Where was the usual issue!? Hatate's newspaper!? Even Shameimaru's?! Where!? How!?

"At least these ones don't break windows," Rinnosuke chimed in from his counter, unaware of the enraged shaking of his customer.

 _No, no_ _ **NO!**_

 _This is USELESS!_

 _Who's the next target?! Who!?_

Without the greatest source of- albeit sensationalized- information in Gensokyo, he lost all means of quickening the entire process. It was basically his objective marker, his quest giver, and it had all but been gutted from the game, and HE WAS TO BLAME FOR IT! Now he REALLY had to scour Gensokyo for the next Capture Target.

He bit his lower lip, and threw the thing back on the shelf.

"Sorry, nothing interesting for today…" he muttered, trying his hardest to suppress his urge to kick someone out of sheer frustration. Rinnosuke, too dense to notice, waved an airy goodbye.

 _Now what'd I do? I've been in Gensokyo for two weeks, and that was from back-to-back captures. I can't just start looking for my conquests! It'd add too much time! By the end of this, I might as well have finished College the time I get back…_

He pulled open the door once more.

Usami Sumireko greeted him outside.

Immediately, the almost familiar colors of her clothes made him jolt back, earning a flinch from her in earnest. Both spectacled individuals cried their own 'whoas' of surprise, and immediately after, apologized with the tandem of accomplished comedy duos. Sumireko giggled at the coincidence. Keima grimaced. She stepped to her right. He stepped to his left. She then tried going left. He went right. The interaction just kept getting more and more awkward. What, were they going to try crawling between each other's legs by the end of this? Fortunately, they got past each other without much trouble, and she shyly cut herself off from his presence and walked towards the shopkeeper.

Honestly, he wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed his own sleek, modern spectacles, but that was for the best. He'd already have a subordinate that'd frankly helped more than Elsie, but to convince her to help him get out of Gensokyo- her being the one who'd relate the easiest- would have been a waste of breath. She'd help, sure, but how was she to fathom his methods? How would she react when the time came for her to bear witness to his kiss? Besides, what was telling him that she wasn't going to argue **against** coming out of this Wonderland that was Gensokyo? He remembered her as rather infatuated with the realm, actually, so… He shook his head of the thought.

Still…

His step fell short of the soil outside Kourindou.

 _That doesn't mean that I can't ask her to relay messages and such…_

 _Wait a minute, I can communicate with Chihiro through her, can't I? Once she wakes up, she'll always come out of Gensokyo remembering everything, so if I just tell her Chihiro's phone number and the message I want her to receive, then she can send it to her…_

"Uh, Katsuragi?" The familiar sensation of the scythe handle prodded at his stomach. "You're… stuck or something?"

Quickly formulating an act, he asked with a sudden curiosity and a surprised peek behind his shoulder, "She's… she's from the Outside World, isn't she?"

"Wha-? Oh, Usami," her eyes shone realization, "Yeah, her clothes do give it away, huh? Yeah, she's a... a special one. She can go through the barrier and stuff; or, that's what they say. I dunno, I haven't the time to go around saying hi to every newcomer in Gensokyo."

He straightened his exiting stance into a straight stand. His shoes clapped with the wood.

"What are the chances that Yukari allows me to send messages outside of Gensokyo with her?"

At this, she scratched the back of her head- not that he saw it; she was invisible, after all. "Well…" she droned, bobbing her eyes to the side, "I guess she'd be fine with that… Wait, you're not surprised?"

 _Course not, I know her from the games._

Keima pursed his lips, and inhaled.

 _Okay, then. Time to see if she interferes._

And with that, he turned around and accelerated with a push of his hand on the door-

"What? You've been here for three days, now?"

Keima braked.

"Yeah," Sumireko admitted, but then shrugged in complacent nonchalance, "But it's not like it's never happened before, Rinnosuke."

"Ah, right," he nodded with understanding, "Last week, as well? Five days, was it?"

A long breath drew itself out of the Sealing Club member. "I thought my body went into a coma."

"But that wasn't the case." A simple finish. A bead of sweat began to move down his face.

"It was like time slowed down when I was in here! An entire week, and I wake up six hours after I started sleeping!"

"And I'm guessing you immediately went back to sleep?"

"I can't just make a hypothesis and leave it unanswered!"

"Did you ask Hakurei about it?"

Sumireko, calmed down from her excitement, shook her head, before she took her hat and placed it on the counter. "She didn't know anything about the barrier and time-space whatchamacallit. She's going to ask Yukari about it when she's around. Ah, but she still won't let me stay at the shrine! And Rissa's place's starting to make **me** stink, too!"

Keima mustered everything into his brain.

 _Five days equals six hours._

 _Time slowing down._

 _Yukari._

A hand inched upward, and, slow and juddering, cupped his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared into blurred unfocusedness.

"Uh, h-hey."

Keima's eyes darted up.

"You okay, Katsuragi?"

Rinnosuke had noticed. Quickly, he dashed out of the store, ignoring his call, and left behind a closed door.

 _Time's slowed down in the Outside World._

His mind ran wild.

 _There's no denying it._

 _If Sumireko's feeling the effects since LAST WEEK, then the chances are that Yukari manipulated time itself to-_

A sudden shake tore him out of his ponderance. Komachi, in a fit of desperation after having asked him, multiple times, what was wrong and getting no answer, had resorted to literally shaking him, and she looked absolutely worried.

"Snap out of it! What did you hear?! What happened inside?!"

Keima, naturally, pushed her arms away. She took a step back, and asked, this time with more caution in the inflection of her voice.

"What? What happened?"

Deep breath.

Collect your thoughts.

You've been here for two weeks. That's basically half a day…

Half a day… equates to two weeks here…

Chihiro had been waiting for **half a day** …

That changes everything.

Finally, he looked back to the Shinigami. She flinched. He looked absolutely curious.

"Who's… Hakurei?"

 **O - O - O - O**

"We're almost there!"

"Why the heck didn't you use your powers over distance to get us here, again?"

"I told ya: that's for official Shinigami stuff, not for tours."

"This IS official 'Shinigami stuff'. Ugh, my legs hurt."

"Oh stop it, spoilsport! 'Sides, we're here-"

A silent pause let the breeze through.

"Huh?" Komachi mouthed as she finished scaling the steps of the Hakurei Shrine and got her bearings, rather befuddled by the emptiness of the place. Keima summited the next second, and, taking off his Virtual PFP, he himself shared the sentiment.

"The Shrine Maiden's not here?" he muttered, trailing where her eyes had scanned through before. Komachi shook her head regrettably in answer, looking rather disappointed in the process.

"Sorry, looks like she's out and about."

As they approached the Shrine, Keima's brow furrowed, his mind perturbed by the absence of the titular main character. From Komachi's recalling, Reimu looked to have leant towards the lazy archetype of characters, something the massive fandom of Touhou had much experience portraying, realistic or not, so he hadn't been sure about coming here in the first place. Should he really reveal his presence in Gensokyo to its only 'police force'? Sure, it was a dream of every Touhou fan to meet the almighty Hakurei, and he'd already gone through the topic of wanting to and actually being in this fantastical wonderland, but the notion had to be repeated: if you have a task to do, your work will clash with everything you'd want to do. He'd like to meet her, and fanboy over her, but if, for some reason most probably pertaining to escalating disaster, she visited the homes of his capture targets and saw him, she would start holding wilful suspicion. There was no doubting it: she'd think him the mastermind behind all this.

But this was Reimu we're talking about! Who'd NOT want to meet her!?

But the captures! Yukari! Chihiro! He couldn't compromise this impossible mission for his own leisure!

 _Gah, if Usami's lying and time's still going at the same speed, I might as well be inclined to kill her and myself for thinking all that in the first place..._

 _Work, first and foremost. Games second. Gensokyo... okay, you can be upgraded to third place._

He was in the middle of huffing and puffing his miserly responsibility when they reached the very entrance into the Shrine Building. The place was as he'd expected it to be, almost a splitting image of how the games portrayed it: that donation box, the slanted roof of traditional Japanese architecture, the lush trees, and the iconography of leisurely sweeps propped on the corner of the entrance.

Komachi hoisted herself up the steps, and opened the shoji, peering inside for a quick check. "Anyone in 'ere? Hakurei?"

When no answer came, she turned around to send a rather disappointed glance at him. "Well, looks like we're outta luck..."

Keima rolled his eyes, but then froze. His eyes dragged from Komachi's face down to the temple walkway. Something... unusual had just just entered his view.

"Anyways, what'd you wanna do, now?" the Shinigami continued with a show of shrugging hands, the disappointed furrow slowly fazing away, "Least you know what the place looks like, eh? Not as good as the Moriya- oh hey, there's a small branch shrine dedicated to those guys over there."

"Not interested..."

Keima squinted at her feet.

"Really? You sick of them, already?" Komachi sassed, now looking rather entertained by his supposed plight, "Ain't gonna go back or anythin'? To your 'Miss Yasaka'~ Man, your work ethic's rigid as rigor mortis, KatsuragiIIIEEEEOOW!?"

Komachi's hairs shot upward as she screeched from the sudden pain.

Something was sticking itself into her foot!

Her reflex did a lifesaving jump, but, misfortune aplenty, her foot caught itself on the donation box. Her face kissed the brick, her scythe was mere inches from Keima's arm, although he looked none the wiser, and the box toppled down with her.

The man palmed his face.

Komachi's corpse twitched.

A loud gasp from another entity filled the air.

"Not only are you here to reap Reimu, you, Shinigami, have the gall to desecrate her beloved donation box! How dare you!"

The little Inchling Shinmyoumaru Sukuna puffed her cheeks as she brandished her needle. Truly, a very frightening sight.

At least now they knew someone was in...

Sukuna, glaring at her fallen invader, noticed the dry stare of the strange man standing in front of the Shrine, and gasped in shock, stumbling one step back and raising her arms to block her body from his view. With panicking feet, she scuttled back into her hiding, and left Keima looking unconvinced. Was he really that scary to look at? In any case, he stood still, trying to comprehend what had just unfolded in front of him.

When she failed to greet them again, and once Komachi had the energy and adrenaline in her body to tear herself from the gritty surface, Keima let himself ask aloud, "So, uh, what now?"

Komachi halted her tongue before she could answer. His question wasn't for her. Turning around, she raised a brow at the sight: his ploy had worked, and the Inchling was now sheepishly poking her head out from behind the wooden frame, looking stricken with trepidation.

"Y-you..." she muttered, her tiny little voice of enough volume to barely reach their ears, "Are you here to reap our souls?"

Keima gave an understanding smile- very unlike himself- and shook his head. "No, we're not."

Sukuna sighed relief-

"We're here to EAT YOU~"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

The Inchling fled back inside; a silly mistake, really, for she missed seeing the precious backhand Komachi dealt to Keima for his rudeness. Shinmyoumaru's heart couldn't stop beating, and she ran faster than her legs could feasibly endure. The thoughts of being pulled down someone's gullet sounded so disgusting! But how could she protect herself with just her needle and without the Miracle Mallet's full power? She was defenseless, and the only way left to do was hide.

Oh, why did she reveal herself, why, why, why!? They knew she was here, and they were going to eat her; EAT her! So stupid!

In a terrified hurry, she scaled up the hanging tablecloth, ran halfway down the table, and jumped into her bowl to hide, snatching up its cover in the jump and covering herself inside. They wouldn't suspect that she'd hide in here. They would check her little house first, then the Shrine, but never here. If she was lucky, they would never find her. And if they did, then all hope came down to how good she was at wheeling the bowl down the Shrine steps.

"Reimu, come back!" she begged to the stars, herself quivering with fear, tucking her legs in between her hands, "Please, come back right now! I'm going to die! Please, please, please, please-!"

But then the bowl shook, and she felt gravity lose its grip. She cupped her lips. Someone picked up the-!

The bowl slammed back down, throwing off her thoughts. The comforting shadows were replaced with the light of the morning sun. The lid, it was off. The man's face was her nefarious sun.

"Ah, there you are," he stated matter of factly, before the dreaded grin grew back into his face. "Itadakimasu~"

Shinmyoumaru, as expected, popped a lung.

"NOOOOOO!"

Komachi batted him in the head.

"Stop it, you idiot!" she scolded as she kicked Keima's collapsed, half-conscious body, "Do you wanna go to Hell, or somethin'?!"

She just pummeled him; almost relentlessly, even, that the goodwill Shinmyoumaru briefly held for her thanks to her rescue had quickly morphed into even sheerer terror. The bullying of a smaller person had, perhaps, wrought upon the Shinigami suppressed memories of the first capture, the toying and forceful approach of her Enma still festering in soreness within her. She kicked rather weakly, but the boy surely felt it, grunting and screaming mercy with each flurry.

And then, as sudden as her initial swing, she stopped and twisted her body to the Inchling tearing from the terror. A twinkle jumped from her gaze; the Inchling that had attacked her had been an adorable little thing! So adorable, in fact, that she **had** to get a closer look.

"Hey, Inchling~ What's your name?"

Shinmyoumaru lost all means to get her lower jaw back in place. The Shinigami was so close, that she was sure the breeze going through her face was her deep, manic breath.

"Come on, you can tell big sister Komachi anything~"

The voice wasn't helping. Threatened, and with nowhere to go, Shinmyoumaru... Well...

She wheeled for it.

"Hey-!"

She would not listen to their pleas. These people were monsters! Oh, if she could at least have the Mallet, then she'd have a fighting chance, but, of course, she didn't, so FLOOR IT, INCHLING, FLOOR IT!

Keima promptly caught her bowl midfall.

"Oi," the grungy-looking, feet-stamped man began, "Stop the skit... Just stop it."

Well, no choice. JU-!

He caught that too.

And by that, I mean the Inchling herself.

"I said STOP IT!" he screamed.

"NOoooo! Let go of me!" begged Sukuna.

"Let go of her, Katsuragi!" Komachi cried in agreement.

 _Why's everyone so annoying!?_

"Owowow! You're... holding me... too tight!"

"KEIMA!"

"Okay, I heard you, I have ears!" the agitated man answered back. He promptly loosened his grip on Shinmyoumaru, and, when there seemed no other way to induce further slapstick upon the party, he pushed himself to his feet, and began examining the girl in his hand.

She was... smaller than he'd expected. Everything else screamed Shinmyoumaru, though, so he was sure whoever he was holding was her, even if it seemed far too exaggerated size-wise for him to even come to that conclusion in the first place. One could fit her on their open palm, and she'd have space for a bit more. Of course, she would make herself scarce through the soup bowl- she literally wore its saucer on her head in most depictions- so it wasn't much trouble for him to uncover her place of hiding in this rather small living room. Was she thinking they'd never bother to check? Quick thinking, this one. She was soft to the touch too- not that he meant it in a perverted way. Her clothes were beyond layered, and they made for an interesting texture for one's hands.

Her little hands pushed and pulled, but he felt almost no force worth mentioning. What physical force she exerted seemed nonexistent. Slowly, he put her down on the table, and waited for her response.

Fidgeting on her feet, she patted her little clothes, and, wide-eyed, looked up at the two, one gazing down with a hint of curiosity, the other drunk with intrigue. "A-are you..." she murmured, wrapping a roll of fabric in her nervous hands, "Are you going to eat me?"

"It was a joke." Keima snarled, flinching her and making Komachi click her tongue. The sound, though, inevitably set him off, and he snapped his tongue and head at her acidly. "What? You people have the Grand Prix. I thought you had a sense of humor!"

"This isn't a manzai, Katsuragi!"

"Is that really the only distinction?"

"I worked with Eiki; I know how manzai performances tick!"

Keima puffed his cheeks in protest. Komachi grumbled curses at the uncooperative buddy. Shinmyoumaru blinked.

"Wait," she voiced, "So... what're you here for?"

This time, Komachi had the courtesy to answer. "Just visiting Hakurei. I'm a... let's say we're old friends. This guy here was interested in meetin' her. Doesn't look like she's here, though. You know where she is?"

The Inchling sighed in relief. So they weren't here to cause havoc. Well, that called for renewed confidence, and, with a harrumph and deep breath, she achieved that. "Well," she began, now much more dignified in her stand, "Reimu's scaling Youkai Mountain, visiting the Moriya Shrine, so you're out of luck."

"Them?" Keima let slip.

"You know them?"

"Well, who doesn't?"

Shinmyoumaru nodded, surrendering the question. He had a point.

"Anyways, you might have to come another time... Oh, if you're here already, w-why not donate to the Shrine?"

"Aw," Komachi cooed, cutting Shinmyoumaru off, "The little Inchling's helping~! That's adorable."

Shinmyoumaru took a step back at Komachi's minuscule, but noticeable inching forward, rather bewildered by the Shinigami's behavior. Keima, on the other hand, deadpanned.

"Oi, weren't you some ancient savior of Hell? What's this girly attitude- you trying to subvert expectations?"

"Hey," Komachi chided with an accompanying shove, "The Sanzu can't afford cute, 'less some baby passes by. Let me indulge. So, you donating?"

"Me?" he pointed at himself, eliciting a confirmation in the form of a nod from her.

"Might as well, right?" she added sardonically, "'Sides, I hear the Inchlings have killer puppy-dog eyes."

"W-we do?" Shinmyoumaru asked, all innocent and amazed at the discovery. Why she would find it of surprising importance, Keima didn't know, but it wasn't something worth dwelling into. The red-haired woman, on the other hand, jolted back all comically at the display, shielding her eyes from her face.

"Argh, there it is!"

"Eh? I-I'm doing it?"

"Doesn't look special to me..."

"Come on, Katsuragi: play along!"

Slapping her beckoning hand off his shoulder, he stood back up, and sighed. "Sure," he began, as he rummaged through his yukata, "I can donate."

Shinmyoumaru beamed at the news.

"Argh, the real killer's here!" Keima suddenly exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the Inchling's face. Komachi, mimicking his movement, couldn't agree more.

"Puppy-dog eyes were just the tip of the iceberg!?"

The overreaction did little in the way of fazing Shinmyoumaru's smile, and she found herself in her own world of joy. She'd convinced someone to donate to the Shrine! She helped! What a momentous occasion! It was worthy of generating copious amounts of happiness, for the little Inchling, and she could prance in joy right now if not for the embarrassment it would incur upon her. Reimu would be so proud, though! Maybe she'll get an extra bit of fish today~

"So..."

Keima, now recovered from the sudden cuteness attack, leaned towards the Shinigami with a 1000 yen bill on hand.

"What's the conversion rate?"

"Don't remember," she shrugged in response, "Just slip it in; she'll call Yukari one day to change it into coins. 'Course, she'd get scammed that way."

He clicked his tongue at the news. What a tragic character...

Komachi pulled out her own currency from her trusty coin box, and let the light gleam on its surface. One beam stabbed Keima's right eye, much to his annoyance, and she, noticing the irritation, snickered and did a quick little aiming game with his afflicted eye, much to his displeasure.

As Komachi tormented his organs, the Inchling hopped down the table, her tapping feet grabbing their attentions, and quickly rushed outside to point excitedly at where all donations go.

"In here, in here! Reimu's going to be so happy!"

Komachi let down her hand to snicker at the sight. Keima shook his head and scoffed.

Without hesitation, she flipped her little disc into the air, letting it land perfectly into one of the many slots. Keima then walked forward and slipped his in.

"Ooh, haven't seen paper money in a while."

He froze. A snap of a wide-eyed glance quickly happened.

Didn't Gensokyo run on old, antiquated coins?

Keima quickly shook his head against the suspicion. It must just be some novelty from the Outside World that Rinnosuke's selling in his stores, and the Inchling must have caught sight of it, at one point. Or maybe she'd been introduced to it by Sumireko at a certain point, when Reimu found a way to coax her into donating. In any case, the paper was down the box, and he couldn't take it back.

When they had put down their offerings, Shinmyoumaru declared ecstatically, "Thank you for your patronage~!" She bowed up and down for added emphasis. In Komachi's case, it added to the damage.

"Ugh! So adorable!" She was practically writhing from the eyebleach.

Keima gave a pleasant sigh at the interaction. This was what any Touhou fan would have wanted to see, or, heck, do. Making interactions, seeing them, and joking with them, what more could one want? Still, task at hand, task at hand; can't forget that. But even with that adamance, his mind wandered, the surroundings, weather and fresh air getting to him. He and his mind turned towards the entrance torii, hoping to see what the horizon looked like on this side of Gensokyo. The view of the Moriya was incredible, so curiosity asked, 'what did it look like here?'

His eyes focused. And then the workman's leer set in.

"Onozuka."

His voice resonated dry through the chilling air.

"Yeah?"

A hooking hand on her shoulder and his grave voice answered her.

"Hide."

He dashed straight into the Shrine, much to both the women's confusion. Shinmyoumaru wanted to follow, only hoping to ask what was wrong, but before she could, he'd closed the door on her.

"Eh? Eh?" she repeated, befuddled and nervous, her hands patting airily on the door. Why did he-?

"Don't mind us," Keima's voice cut her train of thought off, sounding so... assuring, that she stopped talking. "The Shrine has another guest."

Inside, Komachi furrowed her brow and stammered half-written complaints at him. All it took for her to quieten, though, was a shushing hand.

"Listen."

She... supposed she could do that.

Shinmyoumaru fidgeted outside the door, not knowing whether to turn around and see if he was speaking the truth, or begin panicking over the possibility of burglary in broad daylight. Her nervousness forced her hands to begin wrapping rolls of her dress in an attempt to calm her down, but it wasn't helping. The little Inchling felt so vulnerable, and Inchlings hated feeling like so.

But then her ears heard the footsteps closing in, and she turned around.

"Is the Hakurei Shrine Maiden home?"

Shinmyoumaru cocked her little head to the side.

A... Rabbit? No, this wasn't Reisen. This one had long brown hair, instead of the Moon Rabbit's longer light-purple strands. And the worry of her face screamed not 'Reisen', but...

"Hi-ho~, Rabbit of the Bamboo Forest here!"

Shinmyoumaru, taken aback by her enthusiasm, hurried to nod.

The rabbit, happy that she'd heard her, began: "So, uh, where's the Shrine Maiden?"

"W-well, she's out right now..."

"What? So early?" she drawled, "Urgh. Anyways, I've got a message for her."

"O-oh, what is it?" Shinmyoumaru prompted, "I can relay it to her when she comes back."

The rabbit nodded at the offer. Suddenly, her chipper self began to mellow, as if the topic she had to speak of physically troubled her. "We..." she paused in hesitation, before a quick inhale brought some semblance of confidence into her, "We need help with... one of the Rabbits- the Shrine Maiden'll know who that is. Something's a bit... wrong, with her, and... uh, we were starting to get worried: she's... turning 'volatile'."

"V-volatile? As in... dangerous?"

The rabbit gave a solemn nod.

Shinmyoumaru felt herself bite her lower lip.

"Okay," she began, looking straight into the Rabbit Youkai's eyes, "I'll tell her first thing she returns."

The rabbit curtsied in thanks, and before the Inchling could propose a donation, she had seemingly disappeared, much to her dismay.

In any case, she had to remember what she'd said. The Bamboo Forest, 'Tewi', volatile. She frowned. It was a worrisome request, full of potential, harrowing dangers for Reimu to survive, and after having lived a few years with her she'd found herself caring for her to the extent of a child to a mother- n-not that she was a child, or anything. Now, Reimu was usually pretty lax with her jobs, but she knew the Shrine Maiden who'd beaten her would be interested!

Oh, first, she'd have to go back inside and check to see if they haven't stolen anything. She turned round, and the door opening at the same time.

It was almost like a different man stepped out of the Shrine.

"Did you hear that?"

God asked his Shinigami. She answered with a confirming grunt.

Shinmyoumaru, having jumped to the air to avoid his feet, found herself in the middle of his spotlight glasses.

"Can you promise me you won't tell Hakurei Reimu?"

She blinked.

"W-what, why?!" Shinmyoumaru exclaimed, the shock making her unable to keep her tongue in check, "Isn't this a job for the Shrine Maiden? I mean, I-I… sorry, can you just… elaborate?"

God exhaled disappointment. Komachi's scythe in the backdrop spoke little in the way of pleasant connotations.

"Let's just say..."

The spectacles were off. Little Shinmyoumaru stared into deep, brown omniscience.

"We're taking the assignment for her."


	29. This Means War

_**The next part of the catch-up game between and my Spacebattle thread.**_

Eientei's bamboo forest seemed endless from the view of the sky. A thicket spanning beyond the horizon's perception, a veritable sea of raised poles and bushels of bamboo leaves covering as the canopy, waiting for the day their flowers could bloom and cover the entire Eastern Wonderland. One had to wonder how the sea even existed in a limited space that was Gensokyo's borders; it wasn't a foreign question to ponder, in a moment like this.

Keima didn't have the time to think to answer it.

Whether or not they should enter all willy-nilly was the question in his mind; the place, Komachi warned, was, as he'd known all along, a strange maze, where all sense of conceivable direction became a discombobulated demon of misdirection, where those unable to contact its inhabitants risked an unsung disappearance and subsuming. Proper preparation called the survivor's mind home, as well as the thought to contact one of its eclectic cast, if one considered venturing in to meet with the greatest doctor of the land.

It wasn't a surprise to Keima, then, that that became the reason Komachi thought of to make her suggest enlisting the help of one of its residents, Fujiwara no Mokou, in their journeys. Oh, what a simple solution that was, and, yes, he'd thought to do it, himself; but, being the clueless actor that he was, he couldn't just suddenly, and seemingly, learn of the Immortal and speak of Eientei as if he'd been there hundreds of times- he'd been there once. Reisen had a crazy boss battle to work with…

In any case, he'd supposed that that would have been the end of any doubts. Unbeknownst to him, though, when Komachi suggested it, she meant forcing himself to listen to her invisible mouth word out a script he'd say to the Hourai Elixir's victim.

Acting as the clueless Outsider had its flaws sometimes...

"So..." Mokou muttered to him as she laid down her bundle of bamboo, continuing as she tied her cuts and chunks of fresh poultry on the nearby branch, "You want me to take you to Eientei? That's it?"

"Yeah, that's all."

Wiping her hands clean, she brought them to rub her chin in contemplation. "Haven't seen you in these parts before- and I've lived here for centuries. What's in it for me?"

"Wait, your character doesn't do this for a-?"

Keima found himself cut short by an elbow to the ribs.

"'I'll take your yakitori.'" Komachi whispered into his ears. "She loves her customers."

Sure, don't let him ask a legitimate question. And what was with that choppy character trait here? Sure, he remember hearing from a fan that she ran a yakitori stand, but was that **ever** relevant in any work? When had it ever defined her to that extent? There was no room to complaint, though, and he, begrudgingly, muttered cloyingly in recital.

"I'll... take your yakitori."

Mokou raised a stunned brow. And Keima inwardly blenched at the success.

"'Reservation for tonight.'" Another line entered his ear.

 _You have got to be kidding me._

"Reservation... for tonight."

A wide grin popped out of the Immortal's face.

Before he could even react, a hand stretched out from Mokou's side, and she said to him, "The Forest is pretty safe, y'know? Not that many man-eating Youkai. Honestly, I'd have refused, but listening to your offer… Well, you'd better buy till you pay me enough for my troubles, you get?"

He stared at the hand, at the suggestable friendliness so easily surrendered to, and sighed. If that was what it took, then he supposed he'd take it.

"Sure, I'll eat till someone's wallet's empty." Two hands joined together. Her hand was a lot warmer than he'd thought, but it just made the shake much more welcoming.

"Great," Mokou merrily stated though her perfect set of teeth- courtesy of the Hourai Elixir's regeneration- and let go of him, "We can start now."

And that was how he found himself following the EX Boss of Imperishable Night. It was a... surreal thought, but then again, he'd kissed an Enma of the dead and a God- actually multiple Gods, if the Outside World counted- so what could surprise him, now? Kissing a Moon Rabbit would have been the least of his surprises, but the question was 'who'?

And what better time to think of possibilities than a stroll like this one?

Reisen seemed the most likely candidate. In all honesty, why not? Her eye induced lunacy, so the notion that it was turning its owner 'volatile', especially in the case of some Runaway Spirit's interference or sabotage, could make sense. But then it meant he had to find out what caused the gap in her heart in the first place. An identity crisis? A dramatic and scarring falling-out? Or, more farfetched, love between someone? The only other ways would have been if the 'sadistic Eirin' trope was true, and that she was getting fed up with the treatment, letting a Runaway Spirit to enter her. But there was a chance that it could be some other Rabbit. The chances were slim, of course, but he kept it in mind.

Next question was what excuse he would pull out of his head to get himself into Eientei. A patient with some disease simulated by Komachi's hagoromo? Well, that would make the conquest rely on chance encounters- best thing would be if the affected Rabbit was taking care of him- but if said Rabbit Youkai was agitated and dangerous enough for Eientei's residents to tip her off to the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, then what were the chances that she'd ever meet any of the patients, much less him.

"Hey," Keima snapped out of her thoughts as he heard Komachi whisper to him. A hand laid on and squeezed his shoulder, "You okay? You look... uh, how should I say it, 'off'..."

Keima sighed, the thought wavering. "I'm fi-"

Gravity snapped his gaze down.

The draft blowing up Keima's yukata shocked him to a yelp, but that itself blended into Mokou's own cry of surprise, with Komachi strangely absent from the screaming. They were falling, that he knew, and the leaves and branches and dry, crusty earth and dust fluttering beside him hinted at the source of their predicament.

The Immortal acted quickly. Shooting her arm out, she caught the man by the back, and, straining herself to do so, stomped her feet and palmed her other hand to the walls of the pitfall, the force nailing the limbs into the soil and stopping their fall. How lucky, that the place was small enough for her to do so, but that wasn't the point right now. Her chest rose up with each inhalation. She could survive a fall that deep; what about him?

"Holy crud..." Mokou cursed under her panting breath. The plummeting pieces of dirt clapping on the ground signaled her living state. "How are you so heavy?"

Keima particularly didn't like that question from his savior, especially since Komachi, still invisible, DID fall. Rrrrright in top of him, and all without blowing her cover with a scream.

"Like the feeling~?" mused the Shinigami, much to his ire.

"You mean the coin you tied onto yourself, right? Then no, I don't! Now fly up!"

She snickered. Flustering the man was really fun. Before she could move herself up, she casted a look down at the bottom of the pit, just to confirm what laid beneath.

Komachi stopped breathing.

The muscles of her face seized.

Her eyeing expression petrified.

Keima furrowed his brow and looked down to see what had scared her.

 _Bamboo spikes._

Every muscle flared in his system.

The atrocities stared back at him. Death. He could have died.

As he stared wide-eyed, the weight of the Shinigami left him, and he could feel Mokou's hand finally roll him on to her for the flight upward.

"Whoa, you're a lot lighter. What, you soiled yourself?"

Keima, though, only declared to her the order not to fall. She laughed him off, perhaps under the impression and schadenfreude enjoyment of his acrophobia, and like any caring manager to the potential customer of their food stall, she looked down to show him the safety of the drop.

It's not settling when an Immortal makes a face exactly like those of mortal men.

"Fuck me..."

In an instance, the two were out of the hellish hole, Mokou's flaming wings blasting them skyward and onto sun-kissed ground. Komachi's invisible hand softly grabbed onto the stumbling Katsuragi, leading him in his fall.

A fall, and then a near-death experience; that was not good for his health or mental fortitude.

"Damn, could've ferried you halfway through the Sanzu, by now..."

He didn't appreciate Komachi's joke, because what joke was there to appreciate?

They'd fallen, without notice, into a pitfall trap, complete with makeshift weaponry fit for boar hide. How he was still alive was a subject he struggled to fathom, but the sheer terror he felt, that feeling that had blasted away his composure, made his stomach cringe.

Mokou, having finished charring the hole with all her might, turned around, narrowly missing the Shinigami in her stride, and began trying to comfort her customer- customer satisfaction, presumably? Being an Immortal had its upsides, but it came with the curse of envy and aged sympathy. She had lived her life, but could not end it. This young man, clearly not even beyond twenty years of age, hadn't, but he'd been so close to the thing all Immortals regret in prayer.

"You okay, man? You hurt anywhere?" She patted his back. "Don't worry, okay? I'll find the one who made it, and, I promise you, I'll put a foot up her-"

Her last utterance, he didn't listen to. Keima, just moments ago panting over his survival, froze. She mentioned a 'her', someone so significant that the mere suggestion brought his mind reeling back from awe.

There **was** a character he hadn't considered, and by virtue of his knowledge he had a reason not to consider her.

The Inaba of the Moon wasn't the target…

 **"OI! WHAT'D YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY TRAPS!"**

It was her.

Mokou twisted around, screamed that name, and dashed into the bamboo thicket behind him.

DORODORODORODORODORODORO!

Komachi flinched into attention. The badge on her chest shone and blared with such volume that it almost broke her worried mood from seconds prior, and in a fit of shaken impatience she hurried to turn it off. Before long, it had shut itself up, and the faraway rumbles of punching fire and falling towers filled the void the Runaway Spirit Squad's sensor had left behind. She gave a sideways leer at the direction of the noise. Even she knew, deep down her Deathly heart, who it was. There was no mystery; there was only trepidations, and the quandary that cursed her made her wonder if she'd have breaks, this time around.

Before long, the Immortal had returned, slightly disheveled and looking to have been in a fight. A little girl hung to her fingers, charred bits of pulled hair between Mokou's fingers, and two flopping rabbit ears endowing the sides of her head. The grumpiest scowl sculpted itself onto her face, and, most discomforting of all, it was but a fragment of the worst this new individual had to offer.

"Let go of me…!"

"Oh, shut up," Mokou snapped back, waggling her prize without mercy, "Now how about you apologize, hmm?"

"I'll never! You guys ruined my trap first!"

"Yeah, by nearly **dying** to it in the first run…" She threw her to the ground, making her land on her bum. "Now say you're sorry, or Eirin's going to have to personally order you off the menu."

One pout later, and the culprit marched half-heartedly towards Keima. Short, almost half his size save for the now perky ears, she didn't even glance at him when she uttered her apology.

"Sorry." She immediately turned towards Mokou once again. "There, I finished, now get out of here!"

Mokou, as expected, was having none of it.

"Shouldn't you be reflecting on your stunt!? You damn near killed us! I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna do what? I had it perfectly made, and you screwed it up!"

"And you laid it RIGHT THERE!? You should know, I walk this road every day; why the hell would you think putting a bamboo spear trap's gonna be a smart idea?! You trying to help Kaguya settle the score or somethin'!?"

"BAH! Your stupid little fight's got nothing to do with it! Besides, why should I tell you? Because you're mad?"

"Because he nearly DIED-!"

Mokou faltered, her next sentence dying before it reached her throat.

She turned up to see why he'd put a hand on her shoulder.

Komachi's eyes widened.

She turned around.

Under coming Winter's sun, Keima asked her the question.

"Who was the trap for?"

 **The Bare White Earth Rabbit of Fine Words, Flattery and Good Fortune**

 **Inaba Tewi**

 **May Fortune smile on Third Capture**


	30. The Runaway Within

Keima recoiled in pain, the dabbing cotton having disagreed with the nerve endings taking charge of his black eye, and Yagokoro Eirin had to rear back as she let him subside his reaction. Eyes closing with regretful apology, she sighed and placed her back on the chair's rest.

"I must apologize, Mister…"

"K-Katsuragi…"

"Katsuragi," she parroted in kind and gave a solitary nod of understanding. "Inaba has been very… rebellious during these past few days, and I, for the life of me, cannot pry and make her explain what the problem is."

Turning to the open shoji door, and thus to Eientei's rightmost courtyard, she eyed the Fujiwara Immortal resting by the slides and asked, with a hint of cautious suspicion in her voice, "Is what you say true? Tewi's gone and made a lethal trap?"

"All true," Mokou waved a nonchalant gesture in the air, "Nearly killed 'im, as well…"

They couldn't see it, but Komachi was, right there and then, looking around the clinic, reading the labels, and tapping a finger on most of the caps and corks, beakers and crushed herbs. She sniffed one of the substances and blenched, the stench too much even for a Shinigami like her to handle.

It was a good thing, then that Keima couldn't see it. Sure, **both** eyes were rendered bruised, but if he'd seen her leisurely tour the place, right now, instead of thinking up strategies her little normie brain could think up, he'd be bubbling right now. The pain would be the least of his concerns.

As Eirin resumed her medical occupation, Keima pondered quietly to himself.

Inaba Tewi, rumored to be the oldest living being in Gensokyo, was the third capture target.

The first impression card had been played, and he was sure it would at least unravel its usefulness to him later on. It had been a spur of the moment situation, but, other than the wounds she'd inflicted upon him in her distasting fury, he was sure he'd sowed the seed well into her mind, the image of this strange man and his sudden brazenness in asking her the hardest question for anyone afflicted with a Runaway Spirit to answer: 'what's making that gap in your heart'? Question is, though, what **was** making her susceptible to the Spirit? What was her problem? Inaba Tewi, the character that seemed to have the least amount of problems to contend with. He hadn't a single clue.

First off, it- ow. Eirin pressed a bit hard, there.

Whatever it was, it had had made her construct traps that were meant to hurt- or even worse kill. That had never been something anyone would popularly characterize her as. Eiki and Kanako had some elasticity in their portrayals, but Tewi? What did she have, again? There was nothing for him to grab on. And who would she even have a grudge against?

If that were the case, then… He had to admit it: he was at a lack of data. It wasn't that big a concern right now, but if he was to continue his ambitions in running through these captures quickly as possible, then he couldn't keep that vacuum lasting.

But that itself raised an issue. How was he to gather information? He could have asked Komachi to do so right before entering, but knowing the Bamboo Forest's highly indicative naming choice, she'd suggested against it. He had thought about letting her survey and scrounge around the Rabbit's room, but Tewi held no lodgings in here, she explained, and stayed with her own horde of rabbits somewhere in the thicket, so that form of scouring was out the window. He had hoped Eirin would make a slip of the tongue and give him clues, but even she seemed to know nothing.

No one knew anything.

Tewi's situation was entirely a mystery in and of itself.

Keima puckered his lips at that reality.

No source of information, but Inaba Tewi herself…

 _This is a meeting-based capture._

 _I have to find a way to meet her, and then I'd have to stick with her for as long as possible so as to generate the most love points in the shortest amount of time. Improvising the events might be necessary, but that's fine; it's just about whether or not I can get close to her, and how._

'How' was the right question.

"There," Eirin's voice penetrated his thoughts. He awoke, only to have a soft patch be tied over his more severe injury. "You should be fine in a day or two. Do you need your glasses, Mister Katsuragi?"

Oh yeah, his spectacles.

They had shattered.

Well, that posed another problem: he couldn't see without them. His eyesight had deteriorated from all the gaming…

"Yes, yes I do…"

"Well, they're completely unusable in this state."

As expected.

"But don't worry. I have experience making eyewear. I can replicate yours in due time, but… these are Outside World spectacles, yes? I've seen similar ones from that Occult girl."

"Y-yes. They dropped by from the Outside World and were c-coincidentally my degree! How fortunate, heheh~"

"Very fortunate, indeed." She sounded to have believed him, but, without seeing her face to confirm it, he couldn't stop steeping in thr nervousness his mind was inflicting upon him. "The lenses are damaged, but I can assess their degrees in due time and replicate them. Centuries of making my own lenses, you see."

He nodded, faking enthusiastic understanding.

"In any case, your wounds were from one of our Rabbits. I dare not charge anything for the treatment."

She pushed herself off the chair, and then turned once again to Mokou. "You may escort him out of the Forest, now."

Mokou clicked her tongue, and patted both hands together in a leisurely finish. "Well," she stepped up from the yard into the structure, "Time for some hand-holding, Katsuragi." Immediately after that, he felt her pat at his upper right arm, and then take ahold of it, pulling him with an unusual level of gentleness out of Eientei. The Shinigami, as expected, followed, knocking over a bottle in the process and causing much confusion for the doctor.

Seeing blurred forms all around him made Keima squirm inwardly with foreign discomfort. What were they, he couldn't tell, and he was sure that the handicap would slow him down. And depending on how long it would take to fix the glasses, he was also basically stuck roaming around the general area till Eirin had them completed, even after he finished Tewi's capture. When that was possible, he didn't know, but it put too big a damper in his pace. If he'd packed contact lenses, then he'd be fine. Of course, he didn't, and bargaining from Rinnosuke, or forcing the order down Nazrin's throat wouldn't help in the long run.

As he stumbled down Eientei's halls with Mokou's directing, little hands prodded at him. He initially suspected them to be the Rabbits, and Mokou confirmed his suspicions with threats to their species and how they should dispel their annoyances. Their little high-pitched squeaks gossiped amongst each other, each one almost identical to the next to the point where they blended their voices into what he felt was similar to pure white noise. They were loud, and they didn't stop moving, their little feet drumming the wooden building till he swore it shook beneath his feet. How Komachi was dealing with all the traffic, he didn't know, but by the lack of any 'who'd ah bump inta, eh?', all was 'fine'.

"Mokou has a boyfriend~"

Still, nothing excused them from being excessively annoying, and Mokou had to agree.

"Stop it, you little-!"

"Oh no, Mokou's cheating on the Princess~! How indecent~"

Pockets of laughter roared throughout wherever they were. Keima, with a frown carved into his face, hoped that it was near the entrance.

" **OW**!"

One of the Rabbits screamed, silencing the building.

"Why'd you hit me!"

"What? I didn't!"

"Well, someone hit me with a stick, and it's one of you!"

 _Ah…_

Keima nodded to himself.

Must be Komachi. He should give her a cookie later.

"Hey, stop fighting, guys!"

"No! Someone hit me! I'm telling!"

"I told you, it wasn't me!"

"That's what the culprit would say!"

As the entire horde rushed to watch the squabble, Mokou looked on, herself curious over the outburst, but then a prodding hand pushed at her shoulder.

Turning towards him, Keima suggested to her, "Keep going, while they're distracted." She exchanged glances between him and the piling Rabbits, before hesitant steps continued their march forward. As they went on their way, the eyepatch man muttered a word of gratitude to his Shinigami, receiving a pat on the back in return. Good thing, too. The Rabbits would have popped a blood vessel if they didn't stop sooner or later.

It had only been a few steps forward when someone bumped into his shoulder, and Keima felt his entire body jolt from the impact. He lost his footing on the Earth, the force prying his arm off a gasping Mokou's grip, and it sent him and whoever it was that had smacked into him plummeting to the ground. Both cries of surprise tangled into one another, and they quite literally rolled and spun on the ground, bodies intertwined in the most comical of pain inflictions.

He felt his back hit the floor, and a hand palm his chest.

"Owowow…" The assailant's voice groaned, close to his ears. The hand on his chest began to apply pressure as she pushed herself back up. "Who- AH?! I'm so sorry!"

 _Oi._

Keima popped a nerve on his forehead.

 _Is this some ecchi galge or something? Are we trying to subvert stuff, now?_

Immediately after the frantic semblance of an apology, the person pulled him up to his feet, and aided in patting him clean of the floor. She seemed to be in a rush, though, if the dashing and colliding hadn't proven such, for without any warning, she gave one last apology and rushed away, more interestingly to the Rabbits of all people.

Mokou, clicking her tongue in the direction of the runner, asked if he was fine. He only answered with a grimace. He'd already gone through enough suffering. By now, Eientei had given him the worst first impression out of every location he'd been in- although that wasn't saying much; the bar could be much, much lower- and he very much liked to leave.

But then, the voice of his crasher entered his ears. "Hey, hey, hey!" she called in the distance, making his head turn. "Stop it! Don't you dare fight in the clinic, both of you!"

"Ah, it's Reisen! She's going to scold us!"

 _Reisen?_

His brows shot up at the name.

"Run away! Run away!"

"Don't run in the halls!"

He kept on listening, seemingly mesmerized by her intonation and pronunciations, inflections and tongue. Because what other way was there to remember another person other than sight, than the use of the ear. He couldn't stay for long before Mokou tugged at his arm and pulled him away.

Komachi, on the other hand, had to stop herself from following the Moon Rabbit the man had seemingly found interest in, their brainwaves having aligned in that very moment in thought: that she might be a part of the puzzle that was Inaba Tewi. The folly of the Forest had denied her decision, as even for a Shinigami, if directions were nonexistent, there was no way to exit the treacherous place. No matter how long she lived here, she'd never memorize the place. Too vast, it was, and too lazy, she is. In the end, the Shinigami had to, disappointingly, leave the curiosity hungry to follow the two out of the forest.

By now, the two had been thinking close to the same things, topic-wise. She'd been pondering- during her little exploration of Eirin's personal clinic- of the Earth Rabbit's circumstances, and how he was to approach her. Surely, knowing his record, he had plans, but, without having heard them herself, and without any experience in putting any pieces together like how he would do it, she found herself clueless in the conference, and cluelessness annoyed the Shinigami immensely. She hadn't interacted much with Tewi, during all these years, and that only complicated her starting point. Where should she evaluate, first? Who should she tail to find answers? What was already present for them to infer from it answers?

Honestly, she didn't know why she was so invested. Why she was so adamant, this time, in finding out her woes before her buddy, she could only refer to her subconscious for an answer. Perhaps the prolonged break from Kanako's capture had made her far too leisurely for her own body's good, or perhaps there was something more selfish in the way of her personality change, but whatever it was, her new attitude would have made Eiki so proud!

That was, of course, if she could keep it up till the next hour.

"What?"

Komachi asked from her seat on the floodplain's sloping grass on the other side of the road skirting round the Bamboo Forest, looking towards the boy beside her. The hagoromo floated gently around her, having been peeled off her body so as to be visible once again to the world. Her scythe tipped slightly as she gestured with a hand, even if the man sat next to her had no working eyes to see with.

"You want to go in there, **again**?"

He nodded, much to her surprise. "I need to meet that Rabbit again. What's her name, again?"

Of course he'd ask; the non-native of Gensokyo hadn't even introduced himself to her yet. "Inaba Tewi, but anyways, you sure? You just went in- I don't think Fujiwara's-"

"We're going inside without her."

Komachi could only blink.

"Eh?"

Going in there? Without the Immortal to guide them round? What? Was he asking for a death sentence?

"N-no way," she argued, springing up to her feet for added effect, "I can't get out of there if we just waltz in without a care, y'know that? We'd stay in there till we literally starve."

"Then we'll just have to find Mokou's stall before nightfall."

Wha-?

She frowned. How stubborn could he be? Didn't he understand how treacherous an excursion in there would be, especially since he was basically **blind** with those black eyes and spectacle-less form. Then again, she supposed he had a perfectly good reason, with his girlfriend in the Outside World and all, and Runaway Spirits and gaps in the heart, **and lastly** Tewi and murderous intent, but she couldn't agree with just up and rushing in there without so much a comprehensible map, something that only existed in the mind of the Rabbit herself, or working eyes, for that matter.

"No, I ain't allowing it!" she protested, this time with much fervor in her voice, "There's gotta be some other way, right?"

"No there isn't!" he cried back, standing up on his own feet to stare the taller Shinigami down, "A meeting-intensive capture can't stall! Each event has to trigger for meaningful progress to be made! So what if we get lost in the Forest!? As long as I get progress, and let her kick us out, then we should be fine!"

Two gazes clashed under the frosty sun. Komachi couldn't muster any reason to follow with the risks, nor could she side with Keima and his desired end results. Two opinions, differing to war, and none budging. The silence between them froze in the atmosphere. Brows cemented into scowling place. Both breaths huffed chilled clouds.

Komachi faltered.

Keima didn't.

Grabbing the back of her head, she sighed, shook her head, and reluctantly admitted, "No way, I'm bailing outta this plan." The dangers were too much. The residents of Eientei knew Tewi's streak, so perhaps they could limit her movements until he recovered his eyesight and made up a better plan. Sure, the last two captures were rather impromptu in their execution, but he had an intact body to boot. This, though, was too much for her; she couldn't bear seeing someone like him get hurt over a potential mistake.

Keima sighed back.

"Good."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess we should come up with a better plan than- what'd you say?"

"I said you not being there is totally fine." And then, as if to add to her shock, in an incredulous move, he turned to the bamboo thicket and began walking towards it, his stride intending to enter the place once more. Komachi couldn't- She just-! Her tongue stumbled to make even a sentence. What? Was she that useless?! And when she was really concerning herself with the man! How dare he-!

She stopped before the lunge to pull him back. He'd turned around at the last moment, and his one eye stared straight into hers.

"Tie the hagoromo to a rock." His directness caused her to flinch back, but he cared little for her reaction, continuing instead: "We're looking for a pitfall, and once we find one, lower me in. You pull your way back out."

"Wait, so you're-?! There are so many things wrong with that," she stated, suppressing her anger for that moment of poignancy, "I won't be there to help you if any Youkai attack. I can't give you the hagoromo cos' I've gotta use it to come out of there, and if Tewi acts up because of the Spirit, then I ain't there to-"

"Then if you don't agree to the other plan, I'll take that risk!"

She took a step back. The energy this man's adamantine resolve exerted was empowering. Komachi could handle it, but without new, sound arguments of her own, countering him was no option.

 _Is this how much you care for the Runaway Spirit victims?_

 _Or are you just desperate to get back home?_

She shook her head. Those thoughts were only good at clouding judgement, and right now, he was demanding for her to give one right this instance. She inwardly grimaced, though, at her ignored worry, but, she supposed in another corner of her mind, if it helped him in his work, she'd take the naps.

Letting her scythe hang limply on her pointed-down grip and the blade bury on the dirt, she groaned and rolled her eyes, fanning her irritation onto him in protest. "Sure," she surrendered, sore and frustrated, much to the man's non-surprise, "What is it…?"

Keima turned to give a glance at the forest before he gave his answer.

"Same thing:" he turned back, "Find me a pitfall trap."

 **O - O - O - O**

Tewi panted and grumbled as she did the final strokes of Eirin's stolen scalpels on the bamboo spear. The sharpness, perfect, its penetrating power at maximum, and still it did not please her.

This rage inside her had no origin. It just… manifested, right then and there. Don't ask her, she had no answers, and a part of her liked it that way, this ambiguity which gave it space to make meaning. And funnily enough, she **did** ask whether or not it was her or this fester that controlled her, and it answered yes, but if she were to rid of it, she'd have to bid it out, and the bid she offered was to do its own biddings in return.

It had been a few days since it emerged from within- or perhaps without, she didn't know- and in the span of then and now, she'd been at work, scheming, planning, drinking the fuel that was its fire burning within her heart. She was furious in her construction that, all around her, the carved hides of the towering grass scattered, and broken murder weapons littered the premise. Her Rabbits had all but retracted themselves from her influence, and the pink-dress-wearing Youkai was all but left alone, a strange, jagged and malign shell of her former smooth-talking, con artist self. But she paid it no mind. The sensation was calling to her, and it was calling for action.

"Okay…" she muttered to herself as she finished another spear and placed it on top of a disorderly stack, "Done… Now, to put them in…"

The stroll from her base of operations to the newly-minted pitfall wasn't a short walk. She was regretting not making her clearing closer- it would have made it much easier for her to listen for potential successes with the thing- but listening to that primal urge in her head hadn't made her the most reasonable person. She didn't mind, though. It was an enticing little thing, smoother with words than even herself. Pushing aside the tuffs of grass, she waddled out into the main path to Eientei, an inconspicuous dirt path with secret turnings hidden away by the Forest itself, and scanned her surroundings. Ah, there, the hole on the ground, that's her destination. She snickered out pure malice as she waddled closer.

But then her ears twitched. It doesn't matter which pair; they heard something.

She halted in her tracks, all her energy being allocated to processing those strange noises reverberating into her ear canals. Squinting. Pouting contemplation. Loosening grip.

 _Someone's in_ _ **there**_ _!?_

Inaba stumbled forward and came down to her knees as she looked down into her trap. Perhaps an animal had fallen in? No, it couldn't be- the only animals here were the Rabbits, and they were at least smart enough to skirt past these, and obviously strong enough to climb or even jump out. Besides, if it were some creature other than a Youkai, it'd be panicking, making noises and such. It couldn't possibly be-

Her pupils shrank back at the sight.

"Er…"

A man in a yukata looked blurrily upwards, his clothes colored char from the fired ground, face dirtied, one eye bandaged and the other an uncomfortable purple.

"Is anyone there?"

Tewi palmed her face.

 _Oh my Gods-  
_  
"WHY'RE YOU HERE AGAIN!?"

The invasive stranger flinched at her screams. "T-the Rabbit?" he muttered, surprise and a tinge of fear in his voice.

"OH YES, IT'S ME!" she answered in a yellow not fitting for her tiny body, and with a swinging fist in the air, "HOW THE HECK DID YOU FALL IN, **AGAIN**?! YOU BLIND OR SOMETHING?!"

"W-well, yeah…"

Tewi fish-lipped.

"Because **someone** broke my eyeglasses and punched my eyes black… I wonder who it was that did it?"

Her pout climbed the moment his smugness began to build. This arrogance…! She screamed another question. "THEN WHY DID YOU COME BACK!?"

"F-Fujiwara, she left me outside the Forest. I said I knew my way back even if I couldn't see, but…" The man turtled back slightly, seeming ashamed, "I guess I took the wrong turn…"

Tewi deadpanned at the sad mistake beneath the pit. The circumstances were so pathetic, so on him and him alone, that she couldn't even comprehend why anyone sane would act in the manner that he did. The man would have died if he got lost, or if he fell when her bamboo spikes were in place! How stupid was he to actually waltz back to the Human Village, almost ten minutes away- by flying- **blind**.

Sighing, she jumped down into the pit to him. Her coarse landing made him jump back at the noise, but before he could recover, she positioned herself and pulled him onto her back.

"W-whoa?!" he exclaimed, as expected. She really didn't want to waste time with him, but the man wasn't that heavy at all, so that was a plus. With quick step, she jumped out of the pit with him in tow, his addition only making her have to use her arms to fully summit. The sudden flight must have made him dizzy, for the moment he put his feet back on surface-level ground, he stumbled slightly forward and onto the supports of his arms. She could only begrudgingly take her results with a scoff.

Pfft, was it **that** scary? He fell into a pit and didn't even break a bone, by the looks of it, and here he was scared of going to Heaven.

"Now scram," Tewi ordered as she focused her attention to the bamboo spikes, "And don't take that wrong turn, again, stupid."

She hadn't even touched the closest piece of her trap when the man, rather matter-of-factly, explained to her, "Um… Where's the exit?"

Silence filled the gap between them.

Tewi's hands were shaking. Her lips pursed, containing the bubbling saliva from being spat out.

 _SO ANNOYING…_

"Oh, come on!" Tewi, enraged by the sudden constant interruptions, drawled loudly, acid in her voice, her gesturing becoming rambunctious and lashing, "I'm busy! I don't have time to do everything with you! Look here:" She forcefully turned him to one direction, much to his discomfort, "Walk twenty paces, turn left and walk five. There, you're out. Understand?"

It took a second for him to process her instructions, but, upon successfully doing so, he, far from her own impatient expectations, shook his head. She gawked at the display.

Clearing his throat, he explained, "Maybe… I should wait until you're finished before I leave."

He answered with characteristic calmness in his voice. Tewi, on the other hand, screamed with madness: "HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE NOT TO UNDERSTAND MY INSTRUCTIONS!? IT'S JUST TWENTY-FIVE PACES!"

But, to her space-faring rage, he declined to listen to her. Instead of doing as she'd so kindly asked, he crossed his legs and sat on the dirt. The Rabbit Youkai abruptly stopped doing everything she was doing. All her bodily functions, stunned with shock and onerous disbelief. For all the gags and stutters she emitted, he did not respond to any of them, total conviction offered to only himself, and that only escalated her shock even further. It was perhaps there, then, that the man started wishing he'd have his eyesight back, because, in the wake of his terribly-chosen decision, what sounded like crunching, a noise one can associate in the context to snapping bamboo, reverberated into his ears and it only stirred him to ponder how strong she was.

Well, however strong, she at least was able to hold him up from the ground with one arm.

Keima froze at the introduction of the thought.

 _Wait, what?_

The jolt of the restraining claws almost undid his yukata, but that wasn't what was making him panic. What made him panic was how she, the little bunny who'd only looked to have stood near his waist, was pulling him, _pulling_ him, and bringing him _up_.

Onozuka Komachi, hiding high in the thicket, with the hagoromo on standby around her shoulder, paled. Her arm reached for her scythe.

If a Runaway Spirit can make a God disappear, why can't it make a little Rabbit a **monster**?

The furious snort combed Keima's hair into a tousled mess.

" **How about you respect your Elders, you lil' kit-brain.** "

The hulking oscillations made his hairs shoot up. Both Keima's hands shot up to grab at the organic chains rounding their vices on his neck, but, to his surprise, his fingers, stretched far as could be, couldn't even touch his thumb.

Who was this?!

This couldn't be the little White Rabbit of Inaba!

There was no way that voice, this thick, muscular appendage, and that capacious height were hers!

" **Struggle, and I'll break your NECK!** "

He stopped. His prying arms, frozen with fear, didn't detach themselves from the bestial mass of sheer destructive power.

" **Now let me tell you again** …"

Heart beating, racing; this was no ordinary Spirit…

" **Twenty paces that way; turn left; five paces after. Got IT?** "

Without a choice, and with his life on the line, Keima gave a frantic nod of agreement at what he saw to be a blurry, light-pink mass.

" **Good…** " The low growling of her newly-formed voice gurgled onto his face, and then he began to lower. That blurry mass he'd been seeing, though, did not rise as he fell. Instead, it seemed to crouch and turtle, turning smaller, and smaller, till it became she, and its existence had become lost to him.

"Now…" Tewi squeaked in her all-natural, millennium-year-old voice. "GET OUT! I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU 'ERE EVER AGAIN!"

And without a second to spare Keima's flew into a full sprint! All the building fear burst into life, and he sprinted, sprinted like never before, towards her directions.

Twenty paces!

Left!

Agh, he skidded! One pace to the side. Five paces!

The results of that rush for safety had him tumbling down the floodplain. Each slam of his falling body sandwiched his head into his legs, and his blurry vision transitioned from total shadow to faint reminisces of sunlight in each bounce on the dirt. It was only one bounce before he was slated to plant his face into the earth when he felt a powerful jolt tug his stomach and stop his descent. The familiar feeling of the hagoromo entered his consciousness, and, knowing that if he looked up he'd see nothing, muttered aloud an 'ow'.

Komachi grunted as she pulled him onto stable footing. The now apparent drained pallidity of his skin made it seem like his pumping chest was failing to circulate, and the shaking muscles did little to help the case. But he was unfazed, and quickly he drew himself into that of a thinking man's meditative pose, jittering slightly and breathing heavily, but forcing callous seriousness on his face and mindset. The Shinigami, on the other hand, stood in recovery. Wiping the fluid anxiety off her forehead with the ethereal fabric, she, disturbed by his lack of motion- not that she herself moved much- prodded him with her scythe handle.

"H-hey, you okay? She didn't break anything, yeah?"

"What did you see?"

An eyebrow rose, and its accompanying eyelid did the same. "A…" she hesitated, "She… It's like she was an Oni, or somethin'."

Keima puckered his lips at the brief description. "An Oni…" The sensation his mouth received from parroting her phrase made it clasp shut. Both partners immediately clicked in mind.

 _Runaway Spirit_.

"Those fucking things can do that?!"

Komachi exclaimed as her body jolted in their gesturing, her mind blowing the new information into appropriate proportions. The man, leaning away from her bewildered outburst, seemed not the least bit as surprised as she was, and looked rather unappreciative of her foul mouth.

"That Spirit must be maturing…" he muttered.

"Oh, darn… So what'd we do…?"

The question for the day, and so quickly.

"We might not have much time," Keima began to explain in a low monologue, forcing Komachi to crouch in an attempt to clearly listen, "The moment something sets her off that can't resolve naturally, she'll go on a rampage."

"W-what?" her pupils skirted back in fright.

"Think about it," he turned to the side opposite of where she was, "During her transformation back there, she could still talk and recite the way out. It's safe to assume that if she does go on a rampage, she can-"

Komachi finished his harrowing sentence, "Get out of the Forest… And cause more destruction outside."

"Yes."

She gave an audible gulp in reaction. The prospective viewing of that imagination churned her stomach painful. This was no perishing of a superior, or the collapse of one of the religious pillars of Gensokyo, that was for sure, but instead of letting down the hairs of her stress, it was instead her and her buddy racing against a time bomb. His insistence for meeting her quickly had uncovered the gravest discovery, and yes, it was good that he'd done so: she was wrong to try and abandon the Capture until a better time, but even with that lesson, it did not make easier whether or not she should laud him for being so proactive, or shudder at what had been uncovered.

And then the thought struck her. Her lips began to recite:

"Katsuragi…"

"What?" he answered, just now exiting his trance of thought.

"Do you know what happens to excessively aggressive Youkai?"

He paused. The hardened glare of his face tightened at the suggestion. "What happens?"

"They're exterminated."

A short spurt of silence preceded his muttered answer, "I could guess."

Komachi's face pulled downward in dismay, and a flash of colorlessness swept across her face. Keima couldn't see, but one need not see such a look to feel the aura it emits. He could only grimace at her implied answer.

All was not in panic, though.

It had taken the two a rather large chunk of time to locate Tewi's trap again, and during that period the two scoured for noticeable landmarks. Nothing came of it, though: the Forest of the Lost was, itself, lost over how to create anything unique or memorable within its borders, and the pair couldn't help but grumble over the nondescript locale and its resistance over being recognizable. It must have taken them an entire hour or so to find the place once again, and all that trouble wasn't even considering the possibility of exiting the place, a legendary feat only a few were able to accomplish.

Tewi, though, had given her own Capture its greatest asset: A way out.

And a way in.

 _Well, 'a way in' is a stretch. I don't know how the Forest works, and that's a problem: some people interpret the place to be 'alive', always changing inside so you can never get out. Tewi, though, knows instructions to get out. The question, then, is whether or not following it in reverse can get me back in, or if it even works from one hour to the next._

 _If it does, then it means I basically have a walkthrough of where to go to trigger events. That should make it easier, so let's just assume it'll work. Now comes down to…_

"Onozuka?" he uttered her name, earning him a weak 'yeah' and the rubbing of grass as she shuffled from her seat, "What time is it?"

The Shinigami squinted in bafflement at his question. "Why'd you ask?" She turned to get a glimpse of the late afternoon sun in the distance, inches from the mountaintops, before turning back to him; but to her surprise, he'd stood up.

"I'm just hungry for yakitori."

Komachi's eyes crunched into a look of disbelief.

He was… _hungry_?

Did he stop caring about the stuff he just learnt about his Capture Target?!

No, no, she had to calm down: there must be a reason for his proposition. Being with him for so long was starting to make her lose doubt of him, and whether or not this conformation was good in the long run was subject to debate, debate which she had no time to do right now.

"Wait a minute," she commanded, shoving herself up to her feet and hefting her scythe's full weight back onto her shoulder, "The heck's this about?"

"I haven't eaten lunch," he explained with a shrug of his relaxing shoulders, "Are we going to forget dinner, too? Are you so irresponsible that you're gonna leave your buddy to die of starvation? Even my old partner wouldn't do that..."

"Is that it?" Komachi chided back, an unspoken realization dawning in her mind, "There's gotta be some ulterior motive in that head of yours!"

"Well, what'd you want me to say?" he asked, a sardonic hue painting his tongue, "The Rabbit told me not to see her, so I might as well do as I'm told."

He could hear the sputtering of the baffled Komachi, and to that he sighed and let loose his shoulders to a slump. He, rightfully, guessed she needed a well-deserved explanation, and, turning to the misty form of the woman behind him, he imparted upon her his views:

"I'd expect you to have learnt by now how I work, Onozuka."

A click of the tongue answered him, as expected of people like her.

"In the last two captures, I had to be with my targets because, 'A'," he raised one finger, "The situation allowed for it, and 'B'." The middle finger went erect. "I had to rid the Runaway Spirit as fast as I could. This time, though, we're at a severe lack of any information regarding Tewi Inaba."

"Then shouldn't we meet her-"

"That's where you're wrong!" he burst out in overexaggerated aggression, stabbing the accusatory finger towards her, "She doesn't see any reason for me to cling to her, no matter how good I can lie: knowing her kind of character, she'll never be convinced by anything I say! Metaphorically, she's the most normal in our track record: I can't just stay with her like I did with Eiki and Kanako! I once said that any impression can be changed to love. What I learnt during that one experience just now is that for someone as grudgeful as her, pushing each and every meeting is pointless, because she wouldn't appreciate each and every single one to its fullest!"

Komachi wasn't particularly listening, but her eyes were still wide with surprise.

"Instead, I should approach this on a day-by-day basis. The staple of any galge, especially those set in a school: the chance encounter each and every day. I'll have to finish this in one week if I'm efficient enough. For the first few days, though, we'll have to find out the reason as to why she's making that trap: we need to know who goes through there, whether or not there are other traps, and I'll see if I can make her spill the beans."

He stopped to catch his breath. She had no words to say to him. That should be sufficient. In the next few days, he would have to be busy in those moments when he was with Tewi; because every bit of detail was important in the striving for the ideal, efficient capture. So, what was the theme this time? Eiki was longing of her subordinate, while Kanako was desperate in possessions. Who was Tewi, then? What opened the gap in her heart? Was there even a sequence in all this? Was this all Yukari's true plan: to let him explore even more thematic dissonances, all meant for him to solve and experience for the coming battle ahead, whatever that may be? Never take the Gap Hag out of the equation, that was for sure.

His stomach grumbled in that moment of pause where he reflected upon himself those topics. He _was_ hungry, that was for sure.

"So come on, let's go and pass the time."


	31. Won't You Dine with Me?

Fujiwara no Mokou sighed a breath of relief when she finally finished hanging her cuts of poultry for curing. They would be dried down to jerkies in the coming days, and reserved only for her consumption, not her customers. Sure, she needed no sustenance to survive, technically, but what harm was there to spice up life every once in a while, especially with the new stock of pepper delivered by the school teacher from the Human Village. Boy, did those little grains burn her tongue, and in more pleasing ways than the other meaning; so what would it taste like after a few days of drying, letting the flavors collect and draw potency?

She stretched her joints and, wondering of the taste, still, left for her stall where the grill had already risen into its own miniature blaze- courtesy of the phoenix down she sprinkled into the charcoal. Evening had parted, night had begun to fall, and so she placed a few skewers and began fanning. There was some traffic that passed by the Bamboo Forest every night, and with a little ingenuity, i.e. a sweet blend of seasoning to accentuate the smells, it wasn't hard to attract a few paying customers. No Youkai would dare come to her, of course. Conditioning does crazy things to entire populations, and her established presence near anything edible was no different than a simple manipulative presence in the realm of the Outside World, one that, in all accounts, worked terrifically well.

In any case, she should be focusing on the preparations for now. Someone might stumble upon her stall and, who knows, they might be hungry enough for her to pin an order up. Yeah, an order. Of her yakitori… Huh, why did it feel like she was missing something…

Katsudon?

 _Eh?  
_

Mokou put down her fan and placed her newly freed hand on her chin.  
 _  
Why am I thinking about Katsudon, right now? Huh, cravings must be coming up again… Katsudon. Katsu-don. Katsu…_

 _ **Katsuragi**_!

Hadn't he promised her that he would visit and order? He asked for a reservation, right? Yeah, he did, she remembered the conversation clear as day now, but that reassurance didn't stop the sudden onset of concern.

The guy was essentially blind, period. How he survived till his lucky find of those spectacles, she had no idea, but without the pair of spectacles, she didn't know how he'd even survive? And, honestly, now that she thought about it, she was at some fault, too: she left the guy on the pathway outside Eientei, thinking he'd fend for himself and wait till someone willing enough to take him back to the Village eventually passed by. It wasn't her idea, too; he'd insisted on not troubling her, even though she could fly and clear the distance in mere minutes.

Man, leaving the kid like that, without a second thought or assessment of his condition really made her out to be an idiot…

Well, no choice, now. She might as well have involuntarily fed a Youkai or collaborated in an accidental death, or something, but she rested her mind in the belief that it was all in the past. She lost a customer, that's all. What's to actually worry about when you're an Immortal? He'd just be replaced one day in that endless cycle of acquaintanceship that was the Immortal's generational existence.

"Gnh…" a fleeting groan escaped her throat, before she looked down at the grill. They were almost done, the skewers, so she didn't see any need to fan the flames anymore than was necessary. For now, all she had to do was lay in wait, or something to that vein, for a customer to come and smell the great scent of her product, the allure enough to break them out of the disorientating anxiety of night and sit them down on the counter.

It wasn't a minute when her ears perked up. Something was breaking grass, snapping branches and kicking rocks in the dark, and that revelation etched a smile on her face. Her first potential customer, and so early in the night, as well. Nice. Quickly, she struck a bit more intensity into the lamp hanging off her stall, if only to pop out from the shadows of the surrounding thicket, and fanned her ingredients. Even Immortals can find some entertainment and worth earning their fare, and this was evidence of it. The first price, and it was coming ever so closer, judging by the increasing volume.

"Is that you, Immortal?"

Ah, that voice! Mokou looked up from her grill to peer at the direction where it came from, her curved lips crinkling slightly from the realization.

That Shinigami was here. A... rare sight, she supposed: those in the department of life and death usually find themselves not inclined to associate themselves with Hourai victims, so for Onozuka Komachi to visit today, or any other day, for the matter, surprised her. And she thought she preferred lounging at Mystia's, instead, but why complain, now? That scythe couldn't hurt her in the slightest, so what other reason would she be here other than to order a serving of grilled chicken, or directions.

"Y-yeah," she replied, "You here to-"

Komachi entered the light.

And Mokou went wide-eyed.

"So… uh, I picked this guy up, just now, and he was askin' me to take him to your stall. Something about bein' blind… or something."

Mokou couldn't suppress the gawk cranking her mouth and eyelids wide open. The fan laid itself on the counter as she leaned out to confirm her disbelief.

 _Katsuragi?!_

"Uh, M-miss?"

Eyes turned to the speaker beside the Shinigami.

"S-so… we're at the stall, yes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're 'ere!" Komachi shot the stall owner an insistent glance, much to her confusion. It wasn't long before she realized that she wanted her to prepare a seat for the two, and so, with dexterity, the owner came out of her stall and pulled out a stool for the blind man to be seated on, under the impression that the easier seating was what Komachi had wanted. The Shinigami's grin was enough of a reassurance to her assumption, and without hesitation she carefully led the man to his seat. Mokou, in an act of instinctual aid-giving, clutched one of his arms and led it to pat on his seat, in which case she let go afterwards to let the man sit down by himself. And she did all of it with the oddest level of sheepishness, all aimed at Katsuragi.

Did he wait at the roadside till now, hoping for someone to pick him up and take him **here**? That was insane for a normal Human like him… assuming that he wasn't secretly part-Youkai or anything. By this point, she might as well pay for all his meals just to please this persevering Buddha who could survive a day without meeting another Youkai, because honestly, she felt compelled to congratulate the guy for holding out just to keep a promise she herself failed to store in her Immortal brain.

Once she had Katsuragi settled down, she rushed back into her stall to begin preparing for orders. "Anyways, w-welcome to my stall, Katsuragi. The Outside World may call this place a yakitori-ya, or something like that, but that's not the point: what'll it be? I've got fresh cuts from every part, all done today. And would'ya like it with tare sauce or salt? There's a few condiments I've got in stock too: real nice homemade shichimi togarashi; sansho pepper; yuzukosho, and umeboshi. No wasabi, I think you know why."

What? A stall owner has to have some finesse in selling her products, right? A Human Village visitor needs a bit more convincing before they buy into a stall in Youkai territory, especially one close by to the infamous Night Sparrow. Wonder what happens when Katsuragi gets blinded by her? Mega-blindness? Bah, that was stupid~

"I feel like she's trying to scam me…"

Katsuragi opined with such bluntness she swore a hammer had just been slammed into her face. The Shinigami beside him gagged and lurched from the sheer humor of it, before she slammed her face to the counter in an effort to display the amount of effort she was exerting to contain her laughter. Not surprisingly, a nerve popped onto the Immortal's head.

"How... did you come to that conclusion?" she asked, politeness grating through clenched, juddering teeth.

"Y-yeah," Komachi's muffled snickers paused her sentence, "H-how did that h-happen?"

The man adjusted his yukata before he responded, in kind, to the inquiry, "I've never heard of a stall owner turning into a totally different person just to sell their food. You sound like you crave for my wallet."

To that, Mokou pouted. She didn't think that her client from earlier that day would even have the space for obnoxious claims like that, but here it was. And to think she was impressed by his adherence to the practice of keeping a promise just mere moments ago, too. He was a customer, though, and she couldn't really give him her two-yen because of that.

The Immortal's later sigh, though, was enough of a message for the man to repent, for, with a tired scowl on his face, he groaned, slumped on his seat, and muttered, "You pick for me. Better not be sweet…"

Komachi then added on the side, "Y'know what I like, right?"

Mokou blinked, a blank look of befuddlement on her face, before she shook her head, gave another sigh, and reached for the prepped dishes. The first finish came relatively quickly on her charcoal grill, and with quick deftness she plated them on some earthenware, all of which she made herself, and served the two on the counter. She, though, wasn't pulling out the condiments, because honestly, she might as well teach him a lesson in courtesy while she was at it.

"Chicken liver," she stated in the midst of Komachi's excited 'ooh' and Katsuragi's curious sniffing, "Tastes best when it's as fresh as what I can get."

Whether or not it was to the shrewd man's fancy wasn't a concern, she found out, because without hesitation he shot a hand forward, onto the liver. No, not onto the handle of the skewer, but on the piping hot meat.

"YEOW!?"

"Maybe I should've just fed you…" Mokou relented, sardonicism at play in her voice as she watched him squirm from the searing pain. At least he took the meal without hesitation, because that just meant that he was fine with it. Before long, he had come to with the recovery, and, rather humorously, he sat back down and waited for her to fulfill her promise. For a bit, she watched in confusion, but when the realization hit, she shrugged and began the exercise in coaxing the baby bird to open its mouth for food.

Once a piece entered him, Keima stopped. To Mokou's surprise, he started choking. A tear almost flowed down his face when the first juices of fresh yakitori entered his mouth. She grimaced in confusion as he spazzed from... well, the only word she could use was ecstasy, and she pondered on what kind of life he had led to come to this point?

But then the sound of depressed grass reached her ears. The gulping Katsuragi halted for a moment, and forced a gulp to clear his mouth.

She'd come.

And to Katsuragi:

 **The gamble had paid off.**

Komachi turned around, a bit of meat still being chewed upon, and she widened her eyes in surprise at the sight.

Mokou flinched when her eyes met.

"WHAT!? You again?!"

Keima grinned inside as the Shinigami snapped back-and-forth from her buddy to the capture target, clearly confused as to whether or not fate or preplanned play had unfolded in front of her.

Yakitori, succulent and fresh. The night, perfect with all the stars. And his hopes for this night, all coming together.

 _If you don't want me meeting you, then I'll have you meet me instead._

Tewi almost couldn't control herself at the sight of the man she was sure she'd caused to run away. Not only was he still in the vicinity, blind as a deaf bat, but she'd the misfortune, the damn, annoying misfortune, of stumbling upon him just a few hours after she'd promised never to see him again! Was she really that unlucky today? Her? The White Rabbit of Inaba? This must be some mistake, a stupid joke- no, of course it must be. A prank come down upon her by people too stupid to understand- heck, if they thought playing jokes on her would fix anything, then they were stupid beyond belief. They were beyond that moniker! They were hopeless.

And this man here was the most hopeless of them all.

"Gah..." she groaned and gritted her teeth, before screaming, "I'll apologize tomorrow! Not like you need it now..."

Mokou clicked her tongue in retaliation. "Yeah, make yourself even more of an ass. I don't remember Yagokoro being nice to people who don't listen."

At that, Tewi, just moments ago turning her back to the stall, froze. A growl beneath her breath escaped her throat. Mokou softly snorted at the loss of momentum.

"Bullseye?"

"No it's not!" Tewi cried as she turned with all her might, eyes crossed, a snarl on her face, "I just- I- I- GAH, I don't wanna eat in a place with THAT guy!"

Komachi awkwardly fidgeted in her seat, "Er... what's this all about..."

"Oh, come on, you beat him up just this afternoon," the Immortal bluntly reminded, missing Komachi's faux remark, "Might as well say sorry to HIM while you're at it."

"NO! NONONONONO!"

She wouldn't! She absolutely refused, denied, rejected the notion! That guy pried too far! He even tried to get close to her, and for what?! For his sick entertainment? To spite her? This damn Human failed the first impressions, and she wasn't going to give any more chances!

As the two bickered, Keima silently finished his serving. Of course, there was much irritation to be had from the irrational Rabbit Youkai's statements, but now wasn't the time to dwell upon riposting rhetoric. Now was the time to take the first true steps in this minefield of Inaba Tewi's mind.

"I want another serving."

The cleaned stick clicked on the plate.

Mokou and Tewi paused at the sudden declaration. The Immortal, rather thrown off by the juxtaposed entity in the verbal kerfuffle, glowed a faint blush in embarrassment, much to Tewi's confusion, before she quickly tended to her-

"And one for the Rabbit."

All eyes widened.

Did he just... invite his assaulter to dinner?

"Y-you sure?" the chef muttered in bewilderment, a hand slowly hovering to grab more uncooked servings.

"Yeah."

He patted the counter till he found his plate, pushing the earthenware to his server, "I have my own apologies to make."

Mokou looked on, doubtful over his odd ability to make the strangest decisions. What was this guy trying to do? He should've known by now, just by her insensitive rant, that the Rabbit wouldn't take kindly to anything he threw at her, nicely or otherwise. The agitated thing clearly didn't want to be disturbed, even if she had to be owing to her new death trap, and Katsuragi was not helping in the slightest. Also, what did he mean by his 'own apology'? Did he do something to her that she didn't notice? Did they meet again after she herself brought him out of the Bamboo Forest of the Lost?

Nah, no way. That'd mean that he had gone back into the place to look for her. Not only was that insane in all levels, she couldn't begin to believe a stunt like that would even work for a guy who couldn't see a meter in front of him. Besides, did Tewi even look remotely ready to receive any apologies, right now, after being roused to such a height of rage? No way. This was a fruitless thing. Tewi would just complain her way out of his offer. The best idea, then, was to tell him that his plans were dead ends, and that he should stop.

Mokou stopped instead.

One glance towards Katsuragi had turned her to stone.

What-?

Keima was looking at her.

What was with that? That... that deep hint of a look beneath the swelling and gauze, that pained beckoning within the soul. Why was he looking at her like that? No, don't tighten it! It was grinding her mind to a pulp! She... just what was he thinking of getting?!

Keima was sure she knew exactly what he wanted.

One corner of Mokou's mouth grimaced at the sudden presumption surfacing in her mind. It was just an assumption, nothing more, and yet the thought made her queasy and uncomfortable. What the man might be telling her was to go against her original intentions, for the total opposite.

He wanted her to be the wingman.

Why!?

What did the guy even want from Tewi? What, was he going to sneak poison into her serving or something? Why try and get close to someone as destructive as the Rabbit Youkai? Wasn't it a better idea to just cut off connections, especially when the one you're trying to distance from is a Youkai? So why was he so insistent?

No, she couldn't do it. Being an Immortal has its perks, and one of them was honed decision-making; with some self-convincing, she decided for him not to pursue the act, and readied the dialogue.

But then she realized that she forgot Komachi.

"Hey, Rabbit!"

The Immortal's resolved gaze snapped.

Ah, shit!

"I, uh... dunno what's gotten between the two of you, but you ain't gonna, y'know, walk away from a free dinner, yeah?"

"Onozuka!" Mokou whispered a chide, before a nervous look answered back.

But the consequence had begun to set in, as one glance at the Rabbit Youkai could confirm. The Immortal paled.

Was she...? Those furrowed brows, that crinkled, self-doubting frown, that left hand on her waist and right hand on her lowered chin. Tewi was starting to consider.

"Wait a mi-"

A sudden revelation stopped her again.

Hypocrisy.

Hadn't she been the one parading the ideas of solidarity between the two tense individuals? Didn't she look to her and say 'come here, sit down and apologize?' What she was about to say was almost counter to her original vision. It would have haunted her very existence through all time.

She had dug a trap, then someone dug it deeper, and now she was crying foul about that remediated piece like it was never her responsibility in the first place. She'd trapped herself in.

And all she could do without tarnishing her image was watch as Inaba cursed the floor, strode forward, and sat right beside the man of her newfound nightmares.

Fresh meat came to sizzle on the grill.


	32. Won't You Dine with Me, Again?

Keima almost cracked a smile at his Shinigami's quick-witted response to the situation, and for that he said aloud, like a stranger thankful to another in trying times, "Hey, another serving for the lady who helped me, too." A friendly elbow tapped his arm as Komachi's response. Mokou, on the other hand, drew hopeless glum on her face as she haplessly, without restraint anymore, reached out for one more skewer. Tewi clicked her tongue, and her impatience made her begin tapping on the counter.

"Thanks for the offer," Komachi spouted rather merrily, perhaps in a bid to make convincing her relations to him, "But sorry. Ain't got time for more than jus' one."

The stool beside him creaked and rubbed on grass and pebbles, and the telltale geta shoes stomped on the floor. He didn't know what she was doing; he couldn't see or even ponder on the nonverbal context of what any part of her was trying to say because of his lack of sight, but whatever it was, he might as well forgive her on all accounts, and buy her a cookie for the trouble, because this was exactly the scenario he wanted.

"Don't wanna get Eiki all cranky this late at night, y'know?"

A half-hearted, cracking goodbye and word of gratitude answered the Shinigami's departure, and before long the snapping grass receded into the distance.

Now only Mokou was left to bear witness.

The ideal situation. It hadn't escaped Keima's mind that, without a mediatory presence in the same scene, there would have been no way for him to make curt conversation, or any progressive interactions with Inaba Tewi and her abrasive streak. He could have done so with the Shinigami, but the circumstances weren't right, if that was the case. Why would Komachi be here to make any coincidental meetings, when she dwelled mostly outside Gensokyo itself? Suspicions were bound to be aplenty, so Mokou, therefore, was the choice he settled on. Not only was she a resident here, knowing the fact that she didn't stray far from the forest made it extremely likely for a chance meeting between her and Tewi to occur.

But why tonight? To that, Keima called for a gamble. He held no guarantees of the Rabbit Youkai's visit tonight, but there had been ample reason for him to believe that there were chances. One was Eirin. He hadn't a clue of her true personality other than the scant interaction he had with her hours ago, but the modicum of time they had together allowed him to pull substantial evidence over her real personality in the sea of canonicity and fanon interpretations. She took responsibility over her subordinates; she was soft-spoken to some degree, perhaps only to her patients; the fact that Komachi didn't panic over the fact that she was treating him, or that they could potentially meet her meant that she was of no, or little threat to him, which would have translated to the 'sadistic doctor' being totally void in reality. In that vein, there would have been a chance that she would've commanded the Rabbit Youkai to go and apologize, if only to quell her own bit of self-guilt and make responsible the criminal of the act. Second was the circumstance itself: Eirin already knew where Tewi was, after Mokou had revealed it to her, so it came down to whether or not she would send a messenger or meet with the Rabbit herself to deliver the orders. Third concerned the time: Tewi looked unwilling to meet anyone else, so, with that in mind, she would've come here at the earliest possible time so as to not run the risk of meeting anyone else.

How nice, then, that all the pieces came down in the order he hoped for. The next waft of yakitori blew into his nose, and the incessant chewing started beside him, signaling him in the next move. But he did not move, other than to accidentally scorch his hands again on the meal. He didn't role the dice like he always did.

 _Because I can't._

 _The capture can't proceed if I'm the one acting too aggressively. I already know that if I'm too pushy, it's going to have adverse consequences. Right now, it's like firing Cupid arrows at a fortress. Tewi has to approach me, instead._

 _I know this scenario, all its tsundere elements and the likes, and I know how to navigate it: she'll answer to my gift of free food, and through that the ball begins to roll: she will, at one point, willingly opens herself to me. These iron women and all their extreme decisions- this should be easy! I just have to keep that door open for as long as possible._

 _Now to wait for her to do just that._

Keima ate silently on his seat. Tewi chewed with loud disregard, sometimes suckling on the chunks in an attempt to pull them out and eat it all in one gulp. The night grew colder by the second. The blurred lanterns became more pronounced in the black backdrop. There was no puttering of the grill's lashing fires, which he saw as strange iridescent tendrils licking the air, and there was no fan terrifying them.

Mokou refrained from speaking.

A sigh of satisfaction exited Keima's mouth as he placed a stripped skewer onto his plate. The tenderness of the meat, the flavor of the skin still on the carelessly-cut pieces, and the taste-filled char, that combination really was sheer bliss. Not only was it not sweet- because of course yakitori wasn't sweet- it was much better than what he'd had to eat all this time.

During Eiki's capture, all he could eat was the leftover's of the Ministry's kitchen, all of which Komachi had to burgle- not that it meant much to the Shinigami; she'd done a fair share of that long ago, this time with the aid of invisibility, too- and during his stay in the Moriya Shrine, all they ate was porridge and whatever they could find around the mountain, the house arrest making it very much impossible for the residents to go down and buy anything stomach-filling, or just anything in general. Only during the festival did they reveal their stockpiled fare, many of which he skipped eating so as to hide his identity and retain his 'sneak attack bonus' throughout. This, right here, was, in some sense, the first 'real meal' he'd had since two weeks ago, and he couldn't feel any happier.

Honestly, he could cry- Huh? What was-? Oh, a handkerchief. Thanks, Mokou-tan...

...

Agh?! What was he doing?! Ogling at cuts of chicken wasn't what he was supposed to be doing! He should be preparing for the inevitable, for when Tewi was going to say 'thanks' or something. Come on, get your head straight, Katsuragi! She's going to do it any time, now, and he couldn't just miss it like some noob.

 _She says thanks. I bait her with 'sorry for disturbing you this afternoon'. With that, I'm sure she'll overreact and open up extremely favorable routes in the dialogue tree. Just perfect, heheheheheh, this capture is gonna be done in no time if I can make her be the aggressor: once she puts down the drawbridge, all's set. Now she just has to say it._

 _Though, now that I think about it, it's been a while. Sounds like she's also eating pretty quickly, too. Can't be that she wants to leave as fast as possible. No way. The circumstances should be coaxing her to at least talk to me._

Only the crackling fire and snarfing bunny entered his ears. Something didn't seem right, and he could not identify it. It was going so smoothly, so what was wrong? It was like-

"Okay, I'm done."

Eh?

"Now leave me alone."

"What, not gonna say 'thank you'?"

Wait, wait, wait? Where was the trigger?

Where was the dialogue tree?

Where was the progress?

"Pfft, to him? All he did was prove to me what a creep he was."

 _Oh no._

"WAIT A MINUTE!?"

The atmosphere shifted, and the torrential wind faced him head on. A baffled and a scowling look answered him. Sweat fled from his body. His near-pouncing body froze in place.

Panic. The worst emotion to dredge up in the swamp of rising tensions. It was the hand that raised itself to reach escape, with the one exception being that it was from within the bog, and it caught his leg. Katsuragi Keima felt his hear seize with terror at that very moment. The image he'd so carefully cultivated, shattered; all itty-bitty pieces on the floor. It is rare for God to grieve after so many heartaches and broken relationships had numbed that very sense in him, but here he was, regretting it all like it had led to his death. The frozen body began to shiver as it broke out of the paralysis. The sputtering started to dribble down.

"S-s-sorry, it's just... Yeah, where's the thank you!? The apology!? Anything!?" he burst out, this madman-looking fella. Fortunately, it had the effect of tickling Mokou's sympathies.

The stall owner shot a gaze at Inaba, and cried, "Yeah, you beat him up: might as well take the time to say sorry for it!"

"Why should I say sorry to him!? You ain't the master of me!"

"W-w-well, I'll tell Miss Yagokoro!"

"Oh, don't you-!"

"I'll vouch for him!"

"You two just met today!"

"Say sorry!"

"Just do it, Tewi...!"

"Say SORRY! Let me PROGRESS!"

No use. The Rabbit Youkai wasn't budging.

 _Shit, shit, shit!_

Keima retracted for a moment to recoup his jumbled focus.

 _I didn't think she'd actually ignore the chances! And everything went so smoothly before! Damn, what am I, an idiot, getting all confident with myself!? The route doesn't even provide a plan B- there's a high chance she'll reject more food, no way she'll allow me to chat if I asked, and no events to trigger that'll indirectly change the scenario!_

He'd let his guard down. He had been such a fool, so much so that he wanted to slam his face into the grill to punish himself for the mistake. If there really was going to be a light at the end of the tunnel, it'd better be Heaven's excavation squad, because he was buried in mounds of disillusioned stone.

Mokou looked anxiously as her male customer squirmed in some showing of his suffering- where the concentrated mental anguish came from, she didn't know. That suffering, though, made her ever more discomforted, and she couldn't bear to see the charitable customer be denied something she honestly thought he deserved. The spur that pushed her, then, came quickly, and she broke the bubble with a heated:

"Y'know what, Tewi, either I put you on the menu," an imposing finger caused the Rabbit to flinch and the man to... well, he couldn't see it, so nothing happened with him, "Or you escort him back to the Human Village! Choose!"

Now two pairs- well, one working pair- of eyes glared at her, not that the intimidation hurt... but what was with Katsuragi? What, didn't he want any help from her or something?

In any case, she crossed her arms and shot daggers at Tewi to further her stand. The man had better remember her for this, because now, he was going to be owing so much more for this. She sacrificed her sanity to bear with the two being so catastrophically close, and now she was bringing those two total strangers closer to each other- for what reason, she didn't know, but it had better be worth it for the boy.

So what was with the face?!

"W-wait a minute," Katsuragi said, in some tone she could only describe as tethering close to panic, "S-she doesn't have to go that far! J-just an apology!"

At that, Mokou frowned. No appreciation, around here. She was, well, getting rather sick of it, and it didn't make sense to her for him to implicitly make light her crime; yeah, as if she was the one not convicted of a crime.

"Oh, come on, just go," she drawled the order, much to the grim-faced despair of the two, and quickly added, "Oh, and if Keine tells me he's gone, then you're getting it, Tewi."

The Inaba Rabbit huffed. She puffed. And she deflated, completely at a loss for what to do in the face of such odds as herself. Well, that was one down, and, honestly, that should have been the only one…

So what's with the face!?

"No, no, I-I just need an apology, that's all!"

Tsk, what was with him? "Then how're you gonna go back?"

"I can find my way!"

"Do you really think I'd believe that?"

Keima huffed. He puffed. And he turned red and screamed at the top of his lungs at the surprised Mokou:

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M WORRIED ABOUT, YOU IDIOT PHOENIX!" His hand flipped upward, but, unbeknownst to him, he'd been too close to the stall counter, and the resulting swing caught the earthenware on the side, flinging it into the air.

Fujiwara felt a plate slam into her face.

Komachi buried her face in her hands.

Tewi wondered why he was even still alive.

"Say that again."

Keima felt his life funnel through his mind. Every sensor blared 'regret'.

"The both of you had better scram RIGHT NOW OR I'M KILLING BOTH OF YOU!"

Feet bolted. Grass snapped and launched into the air. The Immortal's berating speech melded into the nightly breeze as more and more steps took Keima further away. One hand grasped the other.

 _H-Hmmm!?_

"Tsk!"

In the wind's howling, amidst Keima's clumsy steps, under the pull of gravity and Tewi's vice grip, a man and rabbit hopped through Gensokyo's overgrown roads. One, eyes wide, words unformed. The other, grunting.

"Let's go. The sooner I dump you back at the village, the better!"

In the night, the color red is but a figment of one's imagination. To some, it's a hope and dream to see.

To Keima, he'd just taken one huge leap forward without realizing it.


	33. Unknowing Unknown in Unreal Meetings

Onozuka Komachi didn't exactly why, or how, he wanted to meet Inaba Tewi at Mokou's yakitori stand. The guy had never even explained anything to her about it before they went there, but she suspected that he at least thought about it for a while. The guy was sitting there for almost an hour as he waited for the night to come, and he said not a single word throughout, perhaps too deep in his mind to do so. Of course. That must have been the case.

So... was this part of the plan?

Floating invisibly through the path, Komachi watched as the two right beside her kept deathly quiet. Tewi had a hand on the disabled Keima, and though it honestly looked hilarious that the assertive Capturing God had become subservient and lower than a Rabbit, she couldn't help but feel disturbed at the awkward silence between them. Sure, they, or at least Tewi, saw a side of the Immortal that would scar anyone for life, but that couldn't have shut them up for life, right? So what was wrong? Why was he so... silent?

Keima, frankly, had good reasons. Good reasons he'd wished he didn't have in the first place, because nothing was happening. He was wasting his damn time. It was an event he couldn't believe was happening, one that in the right scenario would have really sped up the capture, but it was one that had come far too early for… well, anything. He'd skipped almost five steps, far too much, and now her attraction levels to him were too low for him to work with. It was awkward, it was nerve-wracking, it was spine-chilling. Where was she going? Where was she actually leading him? He pursed his lips in wait.

 _I... well, I could... No, that'd be too dangerous, right now._

 _Maybe I... No, no, no._

 _Something to talk about? What to talk about?_

 _Everything wouldn't work! I can't approach her, she has to approach me, and she isn't doing that. She's not initializing any dialogues that should be appearing right now!_

By now, he was short of just endless suffering in this climate of unsung intent. It was like he was speaking to Rogue A.I., programming gone wrong, an event in limitless glitch. The concept sickened him. He had gone through stuff like this before, but the difference was that he'd hoped it was the last time it would ever affect him. Sad to say his hopes were dashed. No gamer, or person, should ever go through such a stunted development, no matter how deserving they are of the suffering.

Ugh, he could slurp the tension in the air. It was so thick that he struggled to even continue taking steps, or even breathe. Tewi's hands were of no comfort; cold and rough with the calluses from all the days work. A part of him wanted to ask. That part, he hated with a passion, the dumb thing that believed, if he should pursue such a role, it would be fine, and he, in exasperated response, tried his darnedest to keep it silent.

But... what if it was right?

No, no, of course it wasn't! What was he thinking?! Tewi wouldn't appreciate it! Sure, you could argue that it worked just now, but Mokou was there! She was the key to all this, and now she wasn't here... so what was he supposed to do?!

Gah, he might as well forget it and keep quiet, for all he cared. Either you step on a mine, or wait till someone gets you out of it.

"We're almost there."

His ears perked up.

"O-oh, yeah, thanks..."

And immediately after that, he went back into silence.

The sound of dirt made way to tiles.

Trees rustled from the nightly breeze.

 _Wait a minute…_

 _She talked!_

Almost ten minutes of silent walking, and she just-just said something!

Dialogue?

DIALOGUE!

"U-uh-!"

Tewi cringed at the poor excuse of a stammer. Continuing her trek, she turned to the blind boy with a sharpened leer and asked, rather toxic in tone, "What?"

Katsuragi scratched the back of his neck as he acted all coy and embarrassed. She raised an eyebrow at the performance. Where did all the energy come from, huh? Gah, she should've just shutted up. Talking to him right now was the least of what she wanted.

"S-sorry for this afternoon."

Yeah, he'd better be. He made her really mad, back then, so mad, so livid, and so seething with **rage** that she…

Tewi shook her head, her rabbit ears flopping and her carrot necklace twinkling in onomatopoeic noise-making as she did so, and when she had calmed, she turned to him and muttered a, "Don't dwell on it, usa…"

She glowered as she finished her sentence, looking away in disdain from him so she could think of other things. He'd best heed her advice, because she had no desire to repeat it; and why would she? From her experiences with those law-loving shoe lickers and their book-keeping obsession, he wouldn't just forget it and do his own thing. Humans in Gensokyo might as well lack autonomy, and to that she'd say that she didn't care. Her dealings were separate from all that hubbub about the Youkai's battle for control, even if she did participate when her master found it best to use her innate influence on luck to benefit their hold on the bird cage, and even though she did uncover some modicum of enjoyment dealing with those short-lived creatures, now just wasn't the time. Now was not the time for anything other than the boiling steam rising through her ever since-

"Usa?"

The White Rabbit of Inaba flinched at the sound of his quizzical voice.

"Is… is that some kinda slang?"

Dammit, dammit, dammit… She'd had a slip of the tongue. She hadn't said that for a while now, perhaps ever since she started nestling the burning rage within her. And that was some while ago, too, and so the reminder of its existence sent a nostalgically shocking reverberation through her spine.

"Yeah…" she muttered in response, the slightest tinge of irritated regret in her voice, "Not like I still use it…"

Katsuragi felt a bout of uncontrollable perspiration come over him, and, for a usually composed God of Conquest, the feeling almost made him throw up in rejection. He hadn't a clue how he could, well, do anything, by this point. Her words made for very little maneuverability afterwards: they were conversation-ending in scale, and it stopped him from trying to continue them.

That was, though, until she slipped in an 'usa' in her sentence.

 _There it is!_

 _A chip in her armor!_

 _Go, go, go! Can't miss this opportunity-_

"Why not? It's…" Keima gulped before he continued. His stomach cringed at the idea of what he was going to say. " **Adorable**."

Tewi stared at him like he was a pedophile.

The invisible Komachi felt her mouth straighten into the most unimpressed flatline ever, and her eyes narrow into scrutinizing slits.

And Katsuragi Keima knew none the wiser.

 _D_ _id it work?_

 _Whoo, that was dangerous. Playing such a crazy card in a time when I should be extremely reserved._

 _No, come on, I had my reasons. At the very least, it should impress someone who's lived in feudal Japan all their lives! Come on, in the best circumstance, I should have made a massive boost in her affection, especially since I've done a few things to make it much easier for her to be impressed by me…_

 _So why isn't she talking?_

He felt her hands let go, and then she muttered a drawling, "Ew…"

 _Ugh, backfired!_

Keima inwardly cringed and grimaced. His calm outer shell creaked from her accusation, and he couldn't control the disappointment over the embarrassing failure. Hitting another roadblock after being diverted off the beaten path gave no sedation in such times, and the lack of that much needed assurance that he was doing something right once more was making him thirsty. How was nothing he was trying to grab turning into… I dunno, life-saving rope?! Why was he making stupid analogies right now?!

 _Gah, serves me right for using a double-edged sword like that. Now she thinks I'm a creep! That puts me so far back!_

 _Wait, unless…_

The boy's breath stopped for a second there, much to Tewi's puzzlement. Well, what was with the delayed response, huh? Was he going to say anything, because if he wasn't, then she'd very much be content with just tossing him right here, right now. And why wouldn't she?

They were right at the village gates.

"S-sorry, I said something really weird, there, did I?"

"Yeah…"

"B-but anyways…"

Ugh, is he still going?

"I-it sounds like you say it a lot less now, o-or something like that."

Tewi lowered her brows at the presumption. What was he trying to imply here: that he wanted to hear more of it? He really was a creep, wasn't he? Or just very bad at communicating ideas. Then again, wasn't he a lot different before, acting so stupidly suave back then at Fujiwara's cart? She didn't know what to do with this guy or his streak of misfortunes, by this point, and, honestly, she just wanted to be rid of him.

"I don't always say 'usa', okay? Just a habit." With an airy pat of his waist, she pushed him to the entrance. "Now get lost."

To her chagrin, the boy gave a tease as his answer to her rude shove: "S-shouldn't it be 'now get lost, usa'?"

A low guttural growl escaped her-

Keima heard a fleshy clap, before a rude foot complimented her prior shove, pushing him to opening the gates to the premises.

"Go home, kid."

Was what Keima heard as he frantically felt for flat, solid ground to stand on, before the squeaking of the hinges drowned out the voice and the great clang of the door began its echo through the Human Village. He tripped on something, forcing a yelp out of his throat, but before his bracing body could feel the dirt, the soft lasso of the hagoromo snatched his waist and brought him back up.

"Whoo," Komachi breathed a sigh of relief as she floated silently closer to him, "So… you got what you need?"

Keima grew quiet for a moment. Deep breaths exhaled from his lungs. He looked down at the ground. Before long, a solemn, lone nod broke his vow of silence.

"It's not much, but at least it's a step."

The only thing he could think about, then, was how Tewi's last words to him came as a muffled croak.

Katsuragi Keima found himself treading lightly through the pitch black Human Village, shuffling almost aimlessly in the empty desolation that was the moon-blessed street. No, he wasn't lost; far from it. The familiar softness of the hagoromo was coiled round his wrist, and the vague sense tht someone was beside him was enough of an assurance of correct direction and adequate care. He didn't need to fret. Someone was there to tell him not to step on dog or cat poo.

 _Okay. I'm in the Human Village, now…_

 _Gotta lay low and fond some place to rest. I could just play my PFP, but… Hmm, maybe there is a way, but I can't just try it out in the open._

He shivered.

 _It's getting cold! God can't be a hobo , now!_

Onozuka Komachi, on the other hand, invisible and riding the air right beside him, kept quiet.

It wasn't that she hadn't a thing to say: honestly, with that comparatively lackluster performance from before, and Tewi's strange flash of her alter demeanor at the end, she had a lot in her mind. The problem was that those things would have best been mediated as loudly, as overly-breath, and as extravagantly as possible, a blubbering that a whisper could never replicate in lower tones. Still, she did not bother trying to prove that statement. Keima hadn't spoken yet, and the subconscious silence obligated her the same shut-mouth treatment he was practicing, and to further add to it, she didn't like talking in the cold of winter, especially with fatigue as potent as what her flabby scythe-carriers were afflicted with.

"Onozuka?"

She turned to her buddy who'd called her name, answering with a drawling 'what?'

"Find me a nice house."

 _What did you think I was doing?_

She didn't bother saying that aloud. Still, that didn't excuse her of her task, and in that vein, nothing came to mind. Not only was she not the most updated with abandoned homes ripe for temporary settling, the Human Village had no inn, or, heck, had no culture in accepting strangers into their homes, unless they were from outside Gensokyo, in which case it seemed almost like they saw them not as humans, but as tickets to at least vie for the attention of one of the Sages. No, wait, that was a hundred years ago, sorry. In any case, the point still stood: humans of the Village still at least were fine with accepting an Outsider. So…

"If you want a place, you'd better start taggin' yourself as an Outsider."

"No way."

Ah, how did she forget? That tactical stealth he was, quote unquote, employing during his stay.

"You could just say it to one person. It ain't that hard, right?" she chided as the seconds of silence began to drag. Keima sighed a cloud of chilling steam, to her expectant chagrin, and he stopped in his tracks outside a local izakaya. He turned round, facing the wrong way in the process, and answered:

"If I did that, the word will spread, and fast."

Ah, so that's why. "Oh," she vocalized, rolling her eyes, "In a place as tight-knit as this, I guess that could happen."

"And what happens when word gets out that I'm an Outsider?"

"Well, the Hakurei Shrine Maiden sends them back…"

"Exactly, and-"

"Or they attract the hunger of the Youkai."

Katsuragi choked on his own inhalation.

 _H-huh?_

 _What?_

He faltered. Processing that explanation grounded him to a halt, and like a statue he stood still in place, speechless.

 _Outsiders were…_

 _Wait…_

"What's the last part about?" he interrogated, furrowed brows shivering, sweat starting to appear on his forehead. The sudden turn was starting to make him nauseous from the implied context.

She didn't answer.

He waited a little longer, perhaps under the impression that she was trying to come up with an excuse for her slipping tongue. But nothing came of his wait. Why wasn't she answering?

"What'd you mean attract?"

 _Komachi?_

Keima turned his head to the left.

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"

 _Where did you go? You aren't here, anymore! Dammit, you lazy Shinigami, why aren't you answering me!_

"Are you telling me my life is in danger because I'm an Outsider!?"

"What's this about an Outsider?"

Every muscle in his body snapped tense.

Who… who was that? Whose voice?!

 _Komachi? Where are you?!_

Heart racing. Mouth drying. Pupils screaming themselves thin. His blurry, sunken eyes couldn't see anything other than the light shifting, as if something- someone- was blocking it behind him. Footsteps on the earth marched closer.

God could handle anything during those last two captures. He had locked himself in the Sanctuary of the Sanzu, and a true Deity's kind abode, alongside a bodyguard by his side. He was safe, inoculated from the unwanted, and unwonted, primordial eyes of the Youkai wanting privy his name, but here he was now, in the open, away from any haven, unable to take sight of his surroundings, and in the audience of a lone stranger.

 _You are either spirited back to your home, alive, well, and innocent…_

 _Or eaten._

 _Yeah, one should have guessed the delectability of the rare, properly-fattened and value-less Outsider to the Youkai._

 _If a feral Youkai finds out…_

Keima didn't want to swallow, but the saliva couldn't help itself in its making of the loudest gulp he'd ever done.

 _I'm dea-_

"Oi, Katsura-"

The re-emerging Komachi must have dodged, because his comet-powered reflexive backhand, his answer to the sheer shock of her sudden voice hitting the processors of his brain, hit nothin-

" **GUAH!?** "

Oh, wait, he did hit something… But it wasn't Komachi. It was someone else entirely.

"W-who-?! Oi, you damn Shinigami, who's that!?" he cried, waving a threatening fist at… whatever it was that was in front of him. His answer came quickly in the form of a hand on his shoulder.

"Katsuragi, you just-!" Komachi's frantic voice stammered itself to a halt, and she quickly shifted the topic, "A-apologize!"

"Ugh…" the dying victim croaked, her groans only heightening the rants.

"Where did you go!?" the man desperate to fulfill his frustrations interrogated, shoving the hand on his shoulder away with harsh levels of force, "I can't see! If I die, I swear to whatever God there is I'll haunt you to the day the world ends! Don't do that ever again: that's an order!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that long!"

"Then why did you leave me right after that damn creepy hint?! That's the creepiest piece of casual exposition I've ever heard, in-game or in real life, and I've been told about my head coming off twice, now!"

"That's cos' I remembered she'd be in that restaurant!"

"Who?! Who'd you think was so integral to the capture's base of operations that you had to leave and not tell me about her! I feel betrayed! My old devil partner wouldn't do that!"

"U-ugh…"

Two rickety legs came to stand beside him, more specifically in between the two.

"C-can you… hold my head for a bit…"

Keima, caught off-guard in the middle of his tirade, felt his brain fizz from the abrupt change in pace, and from that he lost hold of his reflexes which stretched his arms out to do as she requested. Komachi shot him a look of surprise that he didn't notice, or, in fact, couldn't see, because, y'know, his eyes and all.

Someone's head **did** place itself on his hand, but it felt a lot lighter than he'd first imagined it to be, as if the body wasn't pushing down on it for some reason.

But then, finally, the confusion set in when he heard a body fall to the floor.

Huh?

A… body? On the floor? Then what was he…?

There was thrashing. There were moments of frozen shuddering. There was the sounds of suppressed coughs and cringing gurgles. Whatever the hell was happening, he still at least had a heads up above the thing.

Body, on floor…

Head, in arms…

Okay…?

Keima's squinting eyes- or as much of a squint as they could do with that swelling- looked down at the undefined, blurry thing in his cupping hands.

"Ow, ow," the victim groaned in pain, "You hit hard…"

The voice… It came from the thing in his hands.

"For a human, t-that is…"

Keima fishlipped.

 _Ah, I see how it is..._

And then he brought it in for a closer hug.

Komachi furrowed her brows, confused by the sudden act.

"Uh… can you… not hold me that way?"

"No."

"EH!?"

The Shinigami spat out her lung's contents.

What was with all the surprise, Keima thought. Why wouldn't he hug the head? As we all know, any fan of Sekibanki would always dream of holding her head this way. Besides, he needed a stress reliever, and her softness made for an interesting ball to hold.

"HELP ME! MAKE HIM LET GO BEFORE ANYONE SEES!"

The scythe connected into his cranium, and finally did he let go.

One of the houses nearby awoke their candles.

 **O - O - O - O**

The undercover Rokurokubi, Sekibanki, would have never expected today to be so… off, if that's the right word. News of the Moriya and those crazy Tengu came first in the line of dishes for today. It would've been an ordinary day, if only it hadn't been plagued by stories of that great feast last night and news of the two Youkai Mountain factions coming together. She couldn't believe it, herself. The Tengu? Those proud birdbrains actually playing nice, even with a snout too high in the clouds? Impossible. That couldn't possibly be the truth, she couldn't believe it, and in respect to those beliefs, she spent all day debunking that wild fallacy, the heart-spinning propaganda of the Tengu allying with the Moriya, with the best of her abilities without revealing that she was a Youkai, herself. Sure, what would come of this, if it was actually a propaganda piece? She didn't know, but all she could do about it was tell everyone else of cautionary tales regarding those two far-too-proud races, that being Tengu and God.

Then came even stranger rumors of the Bamboo Forest, of the little Inaba Rabbit and her newfound streak of becoming much more 'dangerous'. 'Dangerous'? More like pettiness: Inaba Tewi was nothing more than a grouch with a scammer's record. Of course she would be 'dangerous', she must've lost a good scam, or something. What was so shocking of that?

All the above, though, were the tip of the iceberg for the next thing to come. She could deal with the first two with a level-headed approach, but this next one, this entanglement that she'd gotten herself into, was nothing short of insane.

"So you're telling me…"

The lock to Sekibanki's own house clicked.

"You, an outsider."

The moonlight pierced through the slowly enlarging opening.

"And you, a Shinigami…"

A match lit in the air. Her face floated dimly in the dark.

"Are here under orders to do… something? And you can't tell me what it is?"

The wick of the candle burst to life and her shack in the outskirts of the Human Village came to illumination. The Shinigami who had come looking for her started shedding off whatever it was what had rendered her invisible, before forming it as a cloudy scarf around her shoulder and coiling on her antiquated piece of history. The boy, on the other hand, was a much less impressive piece of work: a lanky thing, no muscle (characteristic of Outsiders, she supposed), and, unfortunately temporarily blind in both eyes. On further examination, she realized the bandaged and purple-petaled eyelids in her homely light, and pondered how he got them. A later lit lantern assured her that she wasn't lucid from her drink and the presumed existence of a bruise in her stomach.

"Miss Onozuka-" she began as she sat down to light her fireplace, only to be cut off by the woman in question.

"Call me Komachi. I'm fine without all the polite stuff."

"O-okay," she nodded, her head twisting a hundred and eighty degrees behind so she could see the two above the fringes of her massive collar, "So, Komachi, care to explain even further what all this's about?"

The Shinigami shot an anxious look at her partner, much to Sekibanki's surprise. Wasn't she the Shinigami, here? Surely, she was supposed to be the one making the orders, not taking them. The fact that his answer came in the form of the simplest, yet deepest gesture, the handwave, made it all the stranger. And the cherry on top of that cake? She responded as if it'd given her clearance to continue.

"Orders from Yakumo and the higher-ups. There're some things he and I've gotta drive out of Gensokyo."

"Things?" the Rokurokubi raised a brow, "What things? Youkai?"

Komachi answered with a half-hearted whistling attempt at dodging the question. Sekibanki pouted. Her partner palmed his face. He couldn't see, but he could damn well listen and imagine. The Shinigami, with careful gait and shuffling feet made difficult due to her shoes, retreated shamelessly to the corner of the shack, far away from the scrutinizing buddy as possible. There, she began to rest her back on the old moldy wall, her 'innocent smile' still plastered to her face and eyes diverted from the rokurokubi's own eyes.

"A-anyways," the man now began to speak, raising a hand to attract her attention, "What is it about Youkai and Outsiders? My partner here forgot to explain, and, yes, I'm a bit..." he shot a hard glare- or as close to one with those wounds on his face- to the left, which was unfortunate, because Komachi was sitting at his right, "Mad at that."

Sekibanki sighed, rather glum over having to expend more energy once again. She'd just drunk alcohol; let her sleep. She explained as she turned her head back to the now crackling firewood, "Youkai enjoy eating Outsiders, that's all. Some of them started perpetrating the idea that they were some delicacy because they were from the Outside World, and I guess the idea stuck."

"And are you a… uh… that kind of Youkai?" he asked, far too suspicious for her liking.

"What, you want me to be?" she snapped, the tiredness getting to her.

"N-no…?"

"Good. I don't fancy human meat that much, anymore. Doesn't go down the throat too good."

She could feel the irony-tightened glare on her backside from the Shinigami's buddy, and she couldn't help but give a cocky tongue click at him. That only made his look tighten. What, the man didn't have a sense of humor, or something, or did it disappear when he came into Gensokyo? All that hubbub about common sense must've done a number on him, huh?

The fireplace began to burn, and with tired step she took a small kettle, filled it with water from an old container and placed it above the cinders so it could boil. The man had, just now, opted to sit in silence at where he stood, which was at the door, so his accommodations was at least out of the way. Having only one bed meant that there wasn't space for other people, and Sekibanki liked it that way: alone, and in peace and quiet. But here was a human, and a blind one at that. An Outsider. She felt like she could pity him if she had the heart.

When the water reached a point of vigorous bubbling and drumming, she took the kettle off and prepared her guests some tea. She hoped for little in how the beverage would turn out; the other Youkai were never fond of her leaves, so what were the chances that these strangers would be different? Far as she knew, she might as well be serving them dirt water.

Okay, calling it that at least had the effect of hurting her 'feelings'- cheesy, she knew. If she liked it this way, she might as well drink it and promote it like how she always knew it to be made, and no one's opinions should matter if that were the case. Of course, the Shinigami which she served first crinkled the bridge of her brows upon first tasting it (no surprises there), and she couldn't help but think the man would do the same thing.

"Hmm… This is pretty good."

"Huh?" Sekibanki shot sheer incredulity at him.

Taking another sip, he began to comment, "Steeped well. The temperature's right. All I need is a bit of sugar, and this should be good enough to serve in stores."

By the end of it, she was pouring his cup even fuller. It'd been half-full just a moment ago, and, sure enough, she was grinning ear-to-ear beneath the towering collars of her cape.

"If you like it that much," she said, trying her hardest to contain the gratitude and pride in her voice, "Then have some more. I think I've got some sugar somewhere."

He deadpanned in reply, to the rokurokubi's now-unending entertainment, before the dissipating sound of the lapping water signaled him to take another sip.

"Hey, wanna drink my share?" Komachi, on her side of the house, uttered loudly to the chagrin of the two, and she quickly found herself ignored. She didn't mind, though: today had consisted of too much talk and no rest, and she wanted rest.

 **O - O - O - O**

When Komachi awoke to the sound of Keima's frantic whispering for her attention, the night had progressed, and the lights and fire had been extinguished. She felt for her scythe, finding it still beside her, and then muttered, quietly, "What? Can't ya see I was sleepin'?"

"No," Keima snapped, "I'm blind, you stupid Shinigami. Now come closer so I can actually whisper."

She raised a brow. Why would he want to whisper, right now? She didn't want to move: she liked her spot on the ground. A quick reminder by the man, though, begrudgingly changed her mind, and with quiet gait she tiptoed towards his spot near the entrance of the building.

During her rest, she'd forgotten about the Youkai in the room, who, by this point in time, had fallen asleep on her solitary bed in the far corner. Knowing Youkai, though, she surmised that her buddy was just acting extra cautious about throwing information back and forth between each other in a distance as long as where he was and where she had been, because some species had rather good hearing, and the two didn't want anyone knowing about what they were doing- okay, **she** was fine with telling a select few people, but Keima insisted, and his attitude up to this point made negotiations difficult. Plopping down beside him, she leaned closer to his face and impatiently beckoned, "Come on, hit me up. It's got somethin' to do with earlier, right?"

"Yes," he answered, the signature hardened stare coming to his face, "For now, I think I've at least made something of a first impression with Tewi-"

"Yeah," Komachi drowsily cut him off, "Meeting her, buyin' her food, and letting her take you 'back' to the Human Village; what has the world come to?"

"Oi, I'm explaining here."

Komachi's scoffing ire didn't help.

"Look: I've never worked in a situation where the capture target's this adamantly against the flow of the capture, but I think I've noticed something that may work." Komachi's eyes lost their teasing glint to widen at the claim. "If it doesn't, then we resume meeting her by chance- get as many events as possible to get as much affection points as possible- but for that plan to work, I need an investment."

The Shinigami couldn't help but loosen her tongue to mutter a 'wow'. The man actually had a plan? She had tailed him throughout his interaction with the Rabbit Youkai, and she couldn't see anything worth taking note of other than abrasion rivaling that of sandpaper! If whatever he said were true, then wouldn't that translate to a faster operation; an easier job; more time for her to take breaks? Oh, yes! That sounded much sweeter than she'd hoped to anticipate. Even if she'd wanted to donate more of her time in this capture, courtesy of her extended, forced break during Kanako's conquest, she at least couldn't stop her natural metabolism and Circadian rhythm from encroaching over that resolve. To streamline the whole thing, then, meant as such, and she found a pride of sorts beginning to bloom in her regarding the versatility of her partner. Not that she would ever see him as anything more than a weirdo gamer, of course. The guy had to calm down with that electronic gizmo.

In any case, she realized that she hadn't a clue what his plan was, and with unrestrained impatience, she asked him, "So what is it?"

Keima cleared his throat and whispered the explanation: "Look, remember when Tewi was about to leave Mokou's stall? She came back after I bought her the food and you urged her to take it."

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking that's her archetype."

"Um… I'm not getting you."

A sigh answered her silly opining.

"Look, why did she suddenly reconsider, when, for all we know, she hates me. She reconsidered not because I bought her food, but because it was **free**. She's the kind of heroine who'd care for material wealth. If she could get a free lunch, she'd never skip it."

"Well," Komachi shuffled in her place for a more comfortable spot to consider, "I guess you're right, an' all. I've heard of her scammin' and stealin' stuff."

"See, taking possessions out of other people. That, though, takes effort. What if it didn't? I'm sure she'd like that. Thus, she's susceptible to gifting, which means…"

"We give her stuff till she likes you?"

"Yes, but," Keima's face turned grim, "That's not enough…"

"Well, yeah, it's just you buyin' her stuff. She ain't gonna love you: she's gonna love your money, and you ain't exactly goin' for a Pestilence God, 'ere."

"And that's the problem. Well, it's not a capture problem, it's more a problem of the character: they're fickle. It's puppy love." His face contorted into a frustrated scowl. "Unless she whole-heartedly appreciates the stuff I give her, she'll never heal the gap in her heart and drive the Runaway Spirit out. But it's something I have to try. If it doesn't work, it'll at least have quickened the capture- because what capture target doesn't like gifts- and maybe, once she has enough of the gifts, she'll be too happy with them to even remember whatever or whoever it is she wants to kill."

"Huh…" Komachi slouched further onto the wall, before stroking her chin, "I guess it'll work- not that I'm the professional in all of this."

"Technically," Keima interjected, "If we knew who it was she was after, we could go for the non-romance route. But we don't, so we're settling for this. Override her desire for revenge with her old desire for material wealth."

Komachi brooded for a moment before she gave an inquisitive glance at Keima, and asked, "So… what am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever it is I tell you to," he bluntly answered, "It can't be that hard to figure out."

The Shinigami blew air through her lips. "I feel like I'm payin' your debt for you, y'know that? All I do is money, money, money- how did your old partner survive?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head. There was an odd frustration, of sorts, suddenly inside her, like she'd struck the ground and boiling water had started seeping out from the crack. The tiring day had begun to cloud her, and she couldn't help but let the demeaning tongue loosen its noose. It had a point, too, because all she'd done was keep up her subservience with him, and, honestly, she was starting to lose interest in being the one to 'happily serve' the boy. There was so much she could do, so why was she…

No, stop it, brain.

She was being irrational, and a part of her knew it. She'd done her fair share of stuff, it was him who should be taking a break here. He saved Eiki from the Runaway Spirit- and yeah, he did kiss her, and that still haunted her from time-to-time when the memory would arise from within- what was there to complain about?

Komachi craned her neck upward to a gleam of moonlight as she quelled her drowsing grumbles. There was a hole on the roof, letting in a soft illuminance on the ground next to her feet. That faint glare that'd plagued her face mellowed, and the muscles on her face loosened till their tautness seemed but a distant memory. Her lower lip, though, puckered for a moment before they released to let loose a sigh. Some would chop her moodiness to work: the Shinigami must've adapted to that long break during her stay in the Moriya Shrine, but that wasn't exactly it. A Shinigami, assigned to a mortal man with a pension for household entertainment, was essentially a protector, a sentinel; and she didn't like the idea, at first. Not that it stopped her from taking the job, though, cos' of skill sets and all, but after a while, she guessed she'd grown slightly attached. The guy just transcended all other Humans, save for the few special ones she knew, and even then there was no way they wouldn't be charmed by his wiles- a tall order, yes, but knowing him, he'd 'capture' them in a heartbeat.

"Pfft-"

"Hey," Keima pestered angrily, his prior question having been left hanging in the air, "What was that sentence from before? You gonna answer me or what?"

Him? Capture the Hakurei? Komachi couldn't- What was she, stupid? That was an idea far in the realm of the imaginary, and she knew perfectly well it would never happen. Bah, she was getting off-topic, here, and she quickly assembled an answer for him. It wasn't the best way to phrase it, yes, but she thought it fine enough. Turning solemnly towards the man, face tired of the day's ire, and body too tense for her liking, Komachi tipped her scythe in a casual display, and muttered quietly, "Sorry, sorry, just worried, is all."

Keima paused for a moment.

He hadn't heard the Shinigami speak with that much sentimental air before, and the shifting mood had taken him by surprise- thanks to his lowered guard. That mellowing, though, did little to break his stoicism; for he'd already gone through the twists and turns of interacting with other living beings, and the shift happening in front of him did little to sway him off his mediated, stoic self. Keima's monotone face stretched his lips slightly. Something was shifting in Komachi, and he didn't know whether to ignore it, or fear the coming days. This camaraderie, this companionship, it was surely to backfire at one point. Whenever that would be, he couldn't say, but it was coming and he hadn't the time till now to think about it.

It wasn't just Komachi, too: was he dabbling with the Touhou canon? Was there a canon in the first place? What would come of the results of his presence in the series' next work? Would he star in it? Could he even go back home? Thinking these things, he grimaced, and the encroaching sleep was also not helping him in the long run. The world seemed to grow ever more quieter, the great blaring orchestras of nature's little tenders quashed by nothing but tire and the crackling flames subsiding. His blurred, blocked vision darkened till no light passed through them and the darkness made Katsuragi Keima feel alone. Sensory organs, all failing. Games unplayable. A lazy Shinigami as his sidekick.

What damn fantasy epic was he writing here?

Keima glowered at the thought, before coming to the conclusion that it was time to get rid of it. He needed sleep, that's all, and if it was the rare, lustrous body of sleep he needed, then he was fine with dozing off in her wake.

Komachi heard her buddy's breathing slow to a crawl, indicative of his sleeping physique, and she chuckled. It'd been a few days since she'd seen the man rest, on account of him trailing the night away thinking about how he would help the Moriya Shrine's desperate God, so to see him get some well-deserved rest, especially for a capture as supposedly dangerous as this one, gave her no curse of indecision. Katsuragi was going into a mission blind- in both accounts- and yet he still trudged along, planning and making claims like how he'd done so before. What was it that made him move, that gave him the energy to move and the will to fight back the damning conclusions a tired mind would conjure? She didn't really know whether or not she could've answered that question ever in her life, had it not been for her own bits of history with Almage-Machina, where Hell demanded so much of her that, right after its end, she became very much a couch potato to make up the lost time she had. Did he hope for the same, one day? He did admit to doing quite a handful of captures before, and for what? What was he getting out of it?

No, that wasn't the point. She and him had at least one thing in common. To him, his capture targets. To her, this side of the Sanzu, her home and timely abode.

To those two things, their respective members cared. And to that, she sympathized.

And the moonlit sky tucked away into the blanketing clouds for her to close her eyes one last time that night.


End file.
